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»<Mr—WIW~TTTMT * ■»
I
ESSAYS.
I
JFritten by Dr. BEATTIE,
Printed for and fold by Edward and Charles Dillt,
London; and William Creech, Edinburgh,
i.'irHE Minstrel in two Book : with some other
^ Poems. 8vo, 2s. 6d. fewed.
2. An Eflay on the Nature and Immutability of
Truth, in Oppofition to Sophiftry and Sccpticifm.
The Sixth' Edition, Price 6s. Bound*
3. Art Eiegant Edition of Dr. BE ATTIE's Effays
in Quarto. — Containing the Nature and Immutability
of Truth, — On Poetry and Mufic, &c, &c. One Guinea
in Boards.
r Lately Publijhedj
Plutarch's Lives, Tranflated from the Original
Qreek, with Notes Criticil t^nd Hiftorical, and a New
Life of Plutarch. By John Langhorne, D.D.
and William Langhornf, M. A. The Third
Edition, in 6 Vols. 8vo. Price il. i6s. Bound.
%♦ A few Copies of the fame printed on an uniform
Royal Paper. Price Two Guineas in Boards.
E S S A Y S:
O N
POETRY AND MUSIC,
AS THSr AFFECT THB M1ND>
O N
LAUGHTER, AND LUDICROUS COMPOSITION}
O N THB
USEFULNESS OF CLASSICAL LEARNING.
BYNAMES BEATTIE, LL.D.
^ROrSSSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND LOGIC IN THI
MARISCHAL COLLEGE AND UNIVERSITY OF ABERDEEN*
THE THIRD EDITION, CORREC.TED.
LONDON;
rKIRTBD rOJL B. AND C. DILLT, IN THB POOLTRT)
AND W. CREECH, BDINBVX^CB. .
M.PCC.LXXIX. >■ . ','\ j
ftt?^!'
'^^
CONTENTS.
ESSAY on POETRY and MUSIC,
as they affedl: the Mind. '
PART I.
POETRY cmfiderei with refpea to its Matte r.
or Subject.
CHAP. I. Of the end of Poetical Compofttion.
Page 7
II. Of the Standard of Poetical Inven*
tion. 27
III. Poetry exhibits a fyftem of nature
fomewbat different from the reality
of things. 43
IV. "ithe fubjeSi continued. Of Poetical
CkaraSlers. 64
V. Further Illufirations. Of Poetical
Arrangement. 88
yi. Remarks on Msific. 113
Sect.
cont;ents.
Sect. i. Of Imitation. , h Muftc an Imitative
Art? i,^
2. Uo^ are tbepkafures we derive from
Muftc to be accounted for ? lyr
, ' 3« Conjectures on fome peculiarities of
National M^fic. Page 164
CWkY.yW. Of Sympathy. 18 1
P A R T II.
Of the Lakgctaoe of Poetry.
CHAP. I. Of Poetioil Language^ conftdered as
ftgnificant. 193 .
Sect. i. An idea of Natural Language. ' ibid.
2. Natural language is improved in Poetry
by the ufe of Poetical words. 212
3 . Natural Language is improved in Poetry^
by means of Tropes and Figures. 233
CHAP- U* Of the Sound of Poetical Language. 271
ESSAY on LAUGHTER and LUDI-
CROUS COMPOSITION.
CHAP. I. Introduction. The SubjeS propofed.
Opinions of Philofopbers^ — I. Ari-
Jlotk'—tt* Hobbes. — III. Hutchefon.
—IV. Jkenftde. 297
A CHAP.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. II. Laughter feems to arifefrom tbi view
of things incongruous united in the
fame affemblage: I. By Juxta-
fofttion \ II. As Caufe and Effeli\
III. By Comparifon founded on Simi^
litude\ or^ IV, United fo as to ex-
bibit an oppojition of Meannefs and
Dignity. Page 318
III. Limitations of the preceding doSrine.
Incongruity not Ludicrous^ I. When
cufiomary and common \ nor, W.fVben
it excites any powerful emotion in the
beholder J as^ 1. Moral Difapprcbation^
2. Indignation or Difgufi^ 3. Pityi
or J 4. Fear-y 111. Influence of Good*
breeding upon Laughter ; IV. Of
Similitudes J as . conne£led with this
fubjeH ; V. ^Recapitulation. 384
IV. An attempt to account for thefupe-
riority of the modems in Ludicrous
tVriting. 421
REMARKS on the Ufefulnefs of CLAS-
SICAL LEARNING. 453
f
AK
E S SAY
ON
POETRY AND MUSIC,
AS THEY AFFKCT THB MIND,
»
ADVERTISEMENT.
THE following Effays (which were read in
a priv^e literary fociety many years ago), having
been feen and approved of by fome learned per-
fons in England, are now publifhed at their dc-
fire. In writing them out for the prefs, confi-
derablc amendments were made, and new obfcr-
vations added; and hence fome flight anachro*
nifms have arifen, which, as they hurt not the
fenfe, tt was not thought neceflary to guard
againft. ^
AK
E S S AY
O K
POET R Y AND MUSIC,
AS THEY AFFECT THE MIND«
Til E rules of every ufeful art may be di-
vided into two kinds. Some are ncccf-
fary to the accompliflimcnt of the end
propofed by the artift, and arc therefore deno-
minated Eflential kules ; while others, called Or-
namental or Mechanical, have no better founda-
tion than the practice of fome great performer,
whom it has become the fafhion to imitate. The
latter are to be learned from the communications
of the artifl:, or by obferving his work : the former
may be inveftigated upon the principles of reafon
and philofophy.
Thefe two clafTes of rules, however different,
ha^e often been confounded by critical writers, with-
out any material injury to art, or any great incon-
venience, either to the artift or to his difciple. For
frequently it happens, that fafhion and philofophy
coincide^ and that^ an artift givei the law in his pro-
B 2 feflion^
4 O N P O E T R Y
feflion, whofe principles arc as juft as his perform-
ance is excellent. Such has been the fate of Poetry
in particular. Homer, whom we conQder as the
founder of this art, becaufe we have none more an-
cient to refer to, appears, in the ftrufture of his two
poems, to have proceeded upon a view of things
equally comprehenfive and rational: norhadArif- ,
totle, in laying down the philofophy of the art, any
thing more to do, than to trace out 'the principles
of his contrivance. What the great critic has left
on this fubjefi:, proves Homer to have been no lels
admirable as a philofopher than as a poet ; pof-
fefTed not only of unbounded imagination, and all
the powers of language, but alfoof a molt exa^
judgment, which could at once propofe a noble end,
and devife the very beft means of attaining it,.
An art, thus founded on reafori, could not fail
to be durable. The propriety of the Homeric
mode of invention has been acknowledged by the
learned in all ages ; every real improvement which
particular branches of it may have received fince
his time, has been condudted upon his princi.
pies ; and poets, who never heard of his name^
have, merely by their own good fenfe, been prompt-
ed to tread the path, which he, guided by the fame
internal monitor, had trod before them. And hence,
notwithitanding its apparent licentioufnefs, true
Poetry is a thing perfefUy rational and regular ;
and nothing can be more ftri(5Uy philofophical, than
that part of criticifm may and ought to be, which
unfolds the general characters that difttnguifli it
from other kinds o( compofition.
Whether
AND MUSIC 5
Whether the following dtfcourfe will in any de*
gree juftify this laft remark, is fubmitced to the
leaded. It afpires to little other praife, than that
of plain language and familiar illuftration ; dif«
claiming all paradoxical opinions and refined
theories, which are ifideed (howy in the appear*
ance, and not of difficult invention, but have no
ceadeney to diffufe knowledge, or enlighten the
human mind; and which, in matters of tafte that
have been canvafled by mankind thefe twd thoufand
years, would feem to be peculiarly incongruous.
The train of thought that led me into this in-
quiry was fuggefted by a converfation many years
ago, in which I had taken the freedom to offer an
opinion different from what was maintained by the
company, but warranted, as I then thought, and
fiill think, by the greateft authorities and the bed
reafons. It was pleaded againfl: me, that tafte is
capricious, and crittcifm variable ; and that the
rules of Ariflotle's Poetics, being founded in the
pra&ice of Sophocles and Homer, ought not to
be applied to the poems of other ages and nations.
I admitted the plea, as far as thefe rules are local
and temporary ; but afferted^ that many of them,
iieing founded in nature, were indifpenfable, and
could not be violated without fuch impropriety,
as, though overlooked by fome, would always
be ofFeniive to the greater part of readers, and
obftruft the general end of poetical compofition :
and that it would be no lefs abfurd, for a poet to
violate the effential rules of his art, and juftify
himfelf by an appeal from the tribunal of Arif-
B 3 toile»
$ ON POETRY
« totlc^ than for a mechanic to cohftrud ah engine
on principles inconfiftent with the laws of motion,
and e3tcufe himfelf by difclaiming the authority of
Sir Ifaac NewtQii.
The characters that didtnguilh poetry from other
works of literature^ belmg either to the Sub-
jjBCT, or to the Language : fo that this difcourie
naturally refolyes itfelf into two parts. — Wbai
^ . we have to fay on Mufi9 will be found to belong
iothefirft*
?4^T
A N D M U S I C.
PART I.
r Poetry confidered 'with refpeB to its
Matter or Subject.
WH E N wc affirm, that every art or coa-
trivance which has a meaning muft have
an end, we only repeat an identical propoHtion :
and when we fay, that the eflfential or indifpenfable
rules of an art are thofe that dirc6t to the accom-
plifliment of the end propofed by the artift, wc
. repeat a definition whereof it would be captious to
controvert the propriety. And therefore, before
we can determine any thing in regard to the ef*
fential rules of this art, we muft form an idea of
its End or Destination.
C H A P. I.
Of the end of Poetical Compojttion.
npHAT one end of Ppetry, in its firft inftitution,
and in every period of its progrefs, muft have
been, to give pleasure, will hardly admit of
any doubt. If men firft employed it to exprefs;
their adoration of fuperior and invifible beings,
B 4 their
/
8 O N P O E T R Y
their gratitude to the benefaAors of mankind,
their admiration of moral, intelledual, or corpo-
real excellence, or, in general, their love of what
was agreeable in their own fpecies, or in other
parts of Nature ; they muft be fuppofed to have
endeavoured to make their poetry pleajing ; be-
caufe, otherwife, it would have been unfuitable
to the Qccafion that gave it birth, and to the fen*
timcnts it was intended to enliven. Or if, with
Horace, we were to believe, that it was firft ufed -
as a vehicle to convey into favage minds the prin^
ciples of government and civility * ; ftiH we muft
iliow, that one chief thing attended to in its com-
pofuion muft have been, to give it charms fuf-
jicient to engage the ear and captivate the heart of
an unthinking audience. In latter times, the trud
poet, though in chufing materials he never It^ft
fight of utility, yet in giving them form (and
it is the form chiefly that diftinguilhes poetry from
other writings), has always made the enteruin*
ment of mankind his principal concern. Indtedi
we cannot conceive, that, independently on this
confideration, men 'would ever have applied
tbemfelves to arts fo little neceffary to life, and
* The honour of civilizing mankind, is by the poets^f-
cribcd to poetry (Hor. 4r. Poet. 'ver/. 391) ;.— by the orator,
to oratory, f Cicero, de Oruu hi. 1. ^ 33,) ;— and by othen
to philofophy, (Cicero^ de Orat. Hi. i. § 56, J7,; ^nd Tu/c^
iiueft, lib. J. § $•)— It Is probably a gradosil things thccft€l
pf many co-operating caqfes \ and proceeding rather from
favourable accidents, or the fpecial appointment of Heaven,
tl^an from iHf m ^nd ^ohUita*€0 ^f iui^
Wth^
ANDMUSIC. 9
withal fo difficult, asmufic, painting; and poetry.
Certain it is, that a poem, containing the moft
important truths, would meet with a cold recep-
tion, if deftitutc of thofe graces of found, inven-
tion, and language, whereof the fole end and aim
is to give pleafure.
But is it not the end of this art, to injiruif, as
well as to pleafe ? Verfcs, that give pleafure only,
without profit, — what are they but chiming trifles ?
And if a poem were to pleafe, and at the fame
time, inllead of improving, to corrupt the mind,
would it not deferve to be confidered as a poifon
rendered doubly dangerous and deteftable by its
alluring qualities f— All this is true: and yet
pleafure is undoubtedly the immediate aim. of all
thofe artifices by which poetry is diftinguilhed
from other compoficions, — of the harmony, the
/hythm, the ornamented language, the compaft
and diverfified fable : for I believe it wHl be aU
lowed, that a plain treatife, deftitute of all thefe
beauties, might be made to convey more inftruc-
tion than any poem in the world. As writing is
more excellent than painting, and fpeech than
mufic, on account of its fuperior ufefulnefs ; fo a
difcourfe, containing profitable information even
in a rude ftyle, may be more excellent, becaufe
more ufeful, than any thing in Homer or Virgil ;
but fuch a difcourfe partakes no more of the na-
ture of poetry, thao language does of melody.
Or a manufcript of a pidture ; whereas an agree-
able piece of writing may be poetical, though it
yield liti;le or no inftrudion* To inftruft, is an
end
ro ON POETRY
end common to all good writing, to all poetry,
all hiftory, all found philofophy. But of thcfe
lall the principal end is to inftrudt ; and if this
fingle end be accomplifhed, the philofopher and
the hiftorian will be allowed to have acquitted
themfelves well : but the poet mull do a great
fkat for the fake of pleafure only ; and if he fail
to pleafe, he may indeed dcfcrve praife on other
accounts, but as a poet he has done nothing. .
B\it do not hiftorians and philofophers, as well as
poets, make it their ftudy to pleafe their readers ?
They generally do : but the former pleafe, that
they may inftrud ; the latter inftrud, that they may
the rrjpre effedually pleafe. Pleafing, thotrghaiOr.
inftrudive, poetry may gratify a light mind j anc}
what tends eyen to corrupt the heart may gratify
profligates : but the true poet addrefles his work,
not to the giddy, nor to the worthlefs, nor to any
party, but to mankind ; and, if he means to
pleafe the general tafte, tnuft often employ inftruc^
tion as one of the arts that minifter to this kind of
pleafure.
The neceflity of this arifes from a circumftance
in human nature, which is to man (as Erafmus
in Pope's opinion was to the priefthood) " at
" once his glory and his fliame," namely, that
the human mind, unlefs when debafed by paffion
or prejudice, never fails to take the fide of truth
and virtue : — a fad refledion, when it leads us to
confider the debafing influence of paffion and pre-
judice ; but a moft comfortable one, when it diredls
our view to the original dignity and reclitude pf
thd
A N D M U S I C. If
(he human foul. To favour virtue, and (peak
truth, and take ple^fure in thofi? who do fo, is na-^
tural to man ^ to aft otherwjie, requires aa effort,
does violence to nature, and always implies foaie
evil purpofe in the agent, The firft, like pro-
greffive motion, is eafy and graceful ; the laft is -
unfeemly and difficult, like walking fideways, or
backwards* The one is fo common, that it is
little attended to, and when it becomes the objeft
of attention, is always confidered as an energy
fuitable to moral and rational nature : the other
has a ftrangenefs in it, that provokes at once our
furprifp and difapprobation. And hence the vir^
pops ch^rafter of the ancient chorus •was rccon-
fileable, not only to probability, but to real
ipatter of faft.— The dramatic poets of Greece
^ Aftoris parte? oborm, officiamqoe virile
Defendat — —
Ille bonis laveatqae, et confilietar amice»
£t regat iratos, et amet pacare tamentes ;
Jlle dapes laudet menfaB brevis ; ille falabreoi
Joftitianiy legefque, et apertis otia portis ;
Ille tegat commifTay Deofque precetur et oret,
ytredeat miferis, abeat fortuna fuperbu.
Hor. 4r*Poet.'verf, i^^;
f' Let the chorus, like the player^ fapport a chara£ler»
/M and let it a£t a manly part. Let it jfavoar the good, and
give friendly counfel, and reftrain the angry, and love tot
'* compofe the fwellings of paflion. Let it celebrate the
*f praifes of temperance, of falatary juftice, of law, and of
'f. peace, with open gates : let it be faichfal to its truft, and^
'* fupplicate the Gods, and pray, that fortune may return to
f < the affliaed, and forfake the haughty.''
rightly
(C
12 ON POETRY
rightly judged, that great perfons, like thofe wha
appear in tragedy, engaged in any great adion^
mre never without attendants or fpe6lators, or
thofe at lead who obferve (heir condufb, and
make remarks upon it. And therefore, together
with the perfons principally concerned, they al-
ways introduced attendants or fpcftators on the
ftage, who, by the mouth of one of their num-
ber, joined occafionally in the dialogue, and were
called the Chorus. That this artifice, though
perhaps it might not fuit the modern drama, had
a happy efFcfl: in beautifying the poetry, illuf-
trating the morality, and heightening the pro-
bability, of the ancient, is a point, which ia
my opinion admits of fufficient proof, and has
in faft been proved by Mr. Mafon^ in his Letters^
and exemplified in his Elfrida and CaraSacus j two
poems that do honour to the Englifli tongue, and
to modern genius. But I do not now enter into
any controverfy on the fubjefl: : I fpeak of it with
a view only to obferve, that the propriety of the
charadler aflSgned to the chorus is founded on that
moral propenfity above mentioned. For to in-
troduce a company of unprejudiced perfons, even
of the vulgar, witnefling a great event, and yet
not pitying the unfortunate, nor exclaiming
againft tyranny and injuftice, nor rejoicing when
the good are fuccefsful, nor wilhing well to the
the worthy, would be to feign what feldom or
never happens in real life; and what, therefore,
in the improved ilate of things that poetry imitates,
muft
A N D M U S I O. 13
muft never be fuppofed to happem— Sentiments
that betray a hard heart, a depraved undcrftand-
ing, unwarrantable pride, or any other moral or
intelle£luai perverfity, never fail to give ofFence,
except where they appear to be introduced as ex*
amples for our improvement. Poetry, therefore,
^hat is uninftructive, or immoral, cannot pleafe
thofe who retain any moral fenfibility, or up-
rightnefs of judgment ; and muft confequently
difpleafe the greater part of any regular fociety
of rational creatures. Great wickednefs and great
genius may have been united in the fame perfon ;
but it may be doubted, whether corruption of
heart and delicacy of tafte be at all compatible.
Whenever a writer forgets himfelf fo far, as to
give us ground to fufpeft him even of momen*
tary impiety or hardheartednefs, we charge him in
the fame breath with want of confcience and want
of tafte ; the former being generally, as well as
juftly, fuppofed to comprehend the latter. Cowley
was an excellent perfon, and a very witty poet:
but where is the man who would not be afhamed
to acknowledge himfelf pleafed with that claufe
in the following quotation, which implies, that
the author, puffed up with an idle conceit of the
importance of literary renown, was difpofed for
a moment to look down with equal contempt upon
the brutes and the common people !
What fliall I do, to be for ever known,
iljid make the age to come my own ?
I (hall
14 ONPdETftY
I fhall like beafts or common people die^
Unlefs you write my elegy *^
Virgil, defcribing a plague among the beafts,
gives the following pifture, which has every ex-
cellence that can belong to dcfcriptive poetry j
and of which Scaliger, with a noble enthufiafm^
declares, that he would rather be the author, than
firft favourite to Cyrus or Crefus :
^ Ecce autem duro fumans fub vomere taurus
Concidit, et mixtum fpumis vomit ore cruorem^
Extremofque ciet gemitus. It triftis arator,
Maerentem abjungens fraterna morte juvencum^
Atque opere in medio defixa relinquit aratra.
Which Dryden thus renders :
The ftcer, who to the yoke was bred to bow
(Studious of tillage^ and the crooked plow).
Falls down and dies ; and, dying, fpews a flood
Of foamy madnefs mixed with clotted blood.
^ The learned and amiable Dr. Hard has omitted thefe
two lines in his late edition of Cowley's poems. I wifli fome
editor of Dryden would expunge the lad part of the following
fentence, which, as it now flands« is a reproach to huma*
nity. ** One is for raking in Chaucer for antiquated words^
** which are never to be revived, but when found or figni«
** ficancy is wanting in the prefent language : bat many of
** his deferve not this redemption : any more than the crouds
** of men who daily die or are flain for iixpence in a battle,
** merit to be reilored to life, if a wiih could revive them."
Fojffcrtpt to Virgil.
c The
A N D M a S I C. 15
' The clown, who curjing Providence repines^
His mournful fellow from the team disjoins \
With many a groan forfakes his fruitlels care^
And in th' unfinifli'd furrow leaves the (bare*
Not to infift upon the mifreprcfentation of Virgil*s
meaning in the firft couplet, I would only ap-
peal to the reader, whether, by dcbafing the
charming fimplicity of // trijiis arator with his
bla{phemou9.paraphrafe, Dryden has notdcftroyed
the beauty of the paiTage *. Such is the oppo-
fition
• Examples of bad writing might no doubt be produced,
on almoft any occafion, from Quarles and Blackmore; but
as no body reads their works, no body is liable to be mifled
by them. It would feem, therefore, more expedient to take
fuch examples from authors of merit, whofe beauties too often
give a fandion to their blemilhes. For this reafon it is, that
I have, both here and in other places, taken the liberty to
fjpeak of Dryden with difapprobation. But as I would not be
thought infenfible to the merit of an author, to whom every
lover of Englifh poetry is deeply indebted, J beg leave, once
for all, to deliver at large my opinion of that great genius.
- There is no modern writer, whofe ftyle is more di(lta*>
gailhable. Eaergy and eafe are its chief chara£ter8. The
former is owing to a happy choice of expreffions, equally cm-
phatical and plain : the latter to a laudable partiality in fa*
vour of the idioms and radical words of the £ngli(h tongue;
the naii'ue riches and peculiar genias whereof are perhaps
more apparent in him, than in any other of our poets. In
Dryden^s more corrcft pieces, we meet with no- affedtation
of words of Greek or Latin etymology, no cumberfome pomp
of epithets, no drawling circumlocutions, no idle glare of
images, no blunderings round about a meaning : his Englifh
is pure and flmple, nervous and clear, to a degree which Pops
hai sever exceeded, and not always equalled. Vet, as I have
el fe where
i6 ON POETRY
lition between good poetry and bad morality!
So true it is, that the bard who would captivate the
heart
elfewhere remarked, his attachment to the vernacular idiom, at
well as the fafliion of his age, often betrays him into a valga*
rity, and even meannefs, of expreflion, which is particularly
obfervable in hi^ tranflations! of Virgil and Homer, and in
tbofe parts of his writings where he aims at pathos or fnb«
limity. In fa6l, Dryden's genius did not lead him to the
fublime or pathetic. Good ilrokes of both may be found in
him; but they are momentary, and feem to be accidental.
He is too witty for the one, and too familiar for the other.
That, he had no adequate relift; for the majefty of Paradife
Loft, is evident to thofe who have compared his opera called
The Stale of Innocence with that immortal poem ; and that his
tade for the true pathetic was imperfe^, too manifedly ap-
pears from the general tenor of his Tranilations, as well as
Tragedies. His Viigil abounds in lines and couplets of the
moft perfeft beauty; but thefe are mixed with others of a dif-
ferent ilamp : nor can they who judge of the original by this
tranflation, ever receive any tolerable idea of that uniform
magnificence of found and language, that exquifite choice of
words and figures, and that fweet pathos of expreflion and
of fentiment, which charaderife the Mantuan Poet.— -I^
delineating the more familiar fcenes of life, in clothing plain
moral doctrines with cafy and graceful verfi£cation, in the
various departments of Comic Satire, and in the fpirit and
melody of his Lyric poems, Dryden is inferior to none of
thofe who went before him. He exceeds his mailer Chancer
in the firft : in the three lad, he rivals Horace; the ftyle of
whofe epiftles he has happily imitated in his Religio Laici^
and other didadlic pieces ; and the harmony and elegance of
whofe odes he has proved that he could have equalled, if he
had thought proper to cultivate that branch of the poetic
art. Indeed, whether we confider his peculiar fignificancy
of expreflion, or the purity of his ftyle ; the fweetnefs of his
lyric, or the eafe andperfpiCuity of his moral poems ; the
fportive feverity of his fatire» or his talents in wit and hu-
mour I
8
A K D M tJ S I C. <7
heart muii fing in unifon to the voice of coh-
icreocet— and tbstt injtruak» (ukbg the word ii)
ivo
moor ; Drjrden, In point ofgtmms (I do not fay /ij/f#), feemt
to bear aclolbr tAmty to Horace, than to any otktr aoctCBtdr
nodera author. For energy of words, vivacity of defcriptioQ»
and appofite variety of nambers, hit /mj^ rfAkxmtdir is fa-
-pctior CO any ode of Horace or Pindar now extant.
Drydeo^s verfe, thoogh often faulty^ bat a grace and a fpi-
n€ peculiar to itfelf. That of Pope it more correa, and per-
btfpa upon the whole, moie harmonious } bat it is in general
Biore languid, and lefs diverfified. Pope's nombert a^e fweet
but elaborate; and our fen(e of their energy is in fone degree
mternipted by our attention to the art difplayed in their con*
ficxtore : Drydea's are natural and free; and, while they com-^
municate their own fprightly motion to the fpirits of the reader^
hvrry him along with a gentle and pleafing violence, withdtft
giving him tinie either to animadvert on their laultti or to
analyfe their beauties. Pope exceb in folemtiity of found |
Drydeii, in an eafy melody, aad boandieft variety of rhythm*
In this lat itfptBt hii is |^rhaps fuperior to all other Engfiih
poeu, MU«m himihff not excepted. Till X>fjdta z^^tti,
none ofoorwritifrs in rhyade of the laft century approached
in any meafnre to the harmony of Fairfax and Spenfer. Of
Waller it can pnly be faid, that he is not harih ; ofDenham
tod Cowlq^t if a few couplect were ftruck ont of their works»
we could not fty fo much*- Bift in Drydea's hands, the Englifli
rhyming couplet affinned a' new htm s and' feemt hardly fuA
cepcibltf of afny ftltthier' imprbveifteht: One of the greatcft
pMts o^thit cetatnty, the late and mueh lamented Mr. Gray oil
Cambridge, modeHly dedared to me, that if there was in his
miti nmiibert aHy thidg that deferved^ approbation^ he brt.
ksfefned it all lirora Diydeil;
Crito hiHre oftte fiated a' tdmparlibn Between I>ryden «id
Fdpe, as poett of the*iame' order; atfd who diffntd only ia .
^grii of merit. Kut, ih my opinitMi, the merit of the one
ikkti ^iMMexOStf in^ ^IM^froni that of th(» odief« Bdth werf
, i8 O N P O E T R Y
, no unwarrantable latkode) is; one of the means
J that muft be employed to render poetry agree*
able.
For
' happy io a foand judgment and mod comprrhenfive miod.
Wir, and humour, and learning too, they feem to have poT-
ieiled in e<}ual meaTure ; or, if Dryden may be thought to
have gone di^eper in the fciences. Pope mall be allowed to
• have been the greater adept in the arts. The dtverfities in
point of corrednefs and delicacy, which aro(e from their dif*
ferent ways of life, I do not now infift upon* But, (etting
thofe afide, if Dryden founds any claim of preference on the
originality of his manner, we (hall venture to affirm, that Pope
may found a fimilar claim, and with equal juflice, on the per-
leaiie>n of his tafte; and that, if the critical writings of the
firll are more voluminous, thofe of the fecond are more judi-
cicas; if Drydcn*s inventions are more diverfified, thofe of
,Pope are more regular, and more important. Pope*s Hyle
vasiy be thought to have lefs fimplicity, lefs vivacity, and lefe
of the purity of the mother-tongue ; bat is at the fame time
more uniformly elevated, and lefs debafed by vulgarifm, than
that of his great mafter:— and the fiiperior variety that animates
the numbers of the latter, will perhaps be found to be com-
pen/aicd by the Headier and more majeftic modulation of the
fo)mer« Thus far their merits would appear to be pretty
equally balanced. — But if the opinion of thofe critics be true,
who hold that the higheft regions of Parnaflus are appropriated
to pathos and fubliraity, Dryden muft after all confefs, that he has
never aicended fo far as his illuftrious imitator : there being
nothing in the writings of the firft to pathetic as the £fi/Ie cf
Elol/at or the Elegy on the Unfortunati LaJj ; nor fo uniformly
fabiime as the E/T^jf on Maa^ or the Pji/icm/ of thi MeJ/UA,
This lad is indeed but a feledion and imiution of choice
parages ; but it befpeaks a power of imitation, and a tafte in
feledlon, that Dryden does 4K>t feem <to have poftefled. To
all whicll may I not be permitted to add, what I think I could
prove, that the pathos of Homer is frequently improved by
i^ope.
:A N p MUSIC. 19
^or by inftru'dion I do not here underftand
merely the communicttioo of moral and phyfical
truth. Whatever tends to ndfe thofe human
afitdions that are favourable to truth and vir-
tue, or to reprels the oppofite paffions, will d*
ways gratify and improve our moral and intel-
leduai powers, and may properly enough be call-
ed inftruHive. All poetry, therefore,, is intitled
CO this epithet, not only which imparts know-
Pope, and that of Virgil vtjy frequently debafed by Dry''
den?
The writings of Dryden are ftamped with originality, bat
are not always the better for that ^ircomftance. Pope is an
imiutor profeiledly, and of choice; bat to moft of thofe
whom he copies he is at leaft eqaal» and to many of them
fuperior : and it is pleafing to obierve» how he rifes la pro-
portion to his originals. Where he follows Denham> Bods*
Ingham, Roicommon, and Rochefter, in his Wiadfbr-forett,
Eflay on CrMcifm, and poem on Silence, he is fuperior in-
deed, but does not ib^r very high above them. When he ver-
fifies Chaucer, he catches, as by inftinfl, the eafe, fimplicjty,
and (pirit of Dryden, whom he there emnlaces. In the Rape
of the Lock he outihines Boileau, as much as the fylphs that
Jflotter round Belinda exceed in fprightUacfs and luminous
beauty thofe mechanical attendant! of the goddefs of luxury,
who knead up plumpnefs for the chin of the canon, and
pound vermilion for the cheek of the monk *, His Eloi(a Is
beyond all comparifon more fublime and more intereHiog than
any of Ovid's Heroines* His imitatu)ns of Horace equal their
archetypes in elegance, and often furpafs them in energy and
£re. In the lyric ftyle, he was ^no match for Dryden : but
when he copies the manner of Virgil, and boriows the thoughts
of Ifaiah^ Pope is (iiperior not only to himfelf, but to almoft
all other poets.
« * See ftape of th« Lock, ctnto «• verf. 551 and Lutrin, chant, a.
verf». ipo.
C z ledge
w ONPQETItY
our pijr for thf M%ring$ of cmt fcrUoiMf^ereatttm ;
piooiotes SI tdb &r the bwuiim of nature;
makes vice appear the obfeft of indigiiation or
ridicule i meulqatef a. fenfe of our dependance
upon Heaven; fortifies om minds, againft tke
evtk of life } or pronrates the bye of vimie and
wiSiiom^ either by deU9ea»fi|g dieir native charnas,
or by fetdpg before u% in fuitable c^loura the
dreadful confequences of imprudejiit and immoral
conduct. There are few good poems of leQgth,
that will not be found in one or more or per l^ps
in feveral of thefe refpe&s^ to promote the in*
ftruftion of a reader of tafte. Even the ^^^m of
Lucretius^ notiirichftanding its abfurd philofophy,
(which, wbeiji the :|uthQr giv^s \fs^y tQ ih di-
vefts him for a time o£ the poetical^ and even of
the rational, charafter,) abounds in fentiments of
great beauty and high importance ;^ and in fuch
delightful pidlurcs pf natgr^, ^s nauft inflame the
lenthufiafm wherewith a. welMnformed mind coui*
templates^ the wonders and glories of creation.
Who can attend to the e3(ecrable dcfigns of lago,
to Macbcth's progrefs through the ftveral ftages
qC guilt a^d ipifery, tQ, the i;uin,thac overtakes the
impious and tyrannical Mezentius, to the
thoughts and machinations of Sat^n and his an-
gels in Paradife Loft, without paying a frefh
tribute of praife to virtue, and renewing his refor
lutions to perfevere in the paths of innocence and
peace! Nay the machijne;y of Homer's deities,
which in many parts I abandon as indefenfible;
will.
AND M U6 IC. at
will, if I rniftilke IKK, l^ndraU^ »pp^ti wkM<«
ever it is realty {deafifsg, to htf ve fomewhtc of mi
ufeful tendency* I fptkk tmMW of the iihpdrt-
ante of mttchmtr/t. ^ art iiiArunfient of the fit-
Mime Md 6f th^ jnafyenouil^ nfccxflarjr to everjr
epic pociii ; but Of Homer** u(b of it i<i thofe
p^ir^s where k is fup|>ofed by ibme to be im-
neceflary. And in thefe, it often ferves to fet off
a fimple fa£b with allegorical decoration, aiic^ of
Gourfe, by iiiterefting os nnore in the faihki to
iinpre& upon us more effe^ually die iikftniftioit
eonveyed in it And fometrmes it is to be oon*
fidered, a^ nothing more than a perfohtficatioii of
the attributes of the cfivihity, or the operiaont
of the human foul. And, in general^ it te^hes^
efnpha;ticaUy this important leflbn^ that Provi-
fltence iver fuperintehds the Hffairs of men i that
injuftice and impiety are peculiarly obhoxiOns to
divine YOBgeance I and that a* proper attendon to
religious a6d morsfl^ duty, never fails to recooi*
mend both nUtions and indiTiduab lo the diviao
feVoun
But if inftruftion noay be drawn from iho
fpeeches afid behavbur of Milton's devils^ of
Shakefpear^s Macbeth, and of Virgil's Meaentiusi
why is CoWky blamed for a phrafe, which at
worll ioipitek only a flight Bitly of niotnemary
pHde? I attfwer, chat to ipeak ferioofly the lan«
guage of intemperate pafiioni is one thing*, to
imiCate or defcribe- it^ another. By the former.
OM^ can titYGt merit praife or efteem i ' by the
latteir one may:DKrit much praife and do much
C 3 good.
it ON P O E T R Y
good; In the one cafe^ we recommend intempT-
ra(e paflions by our example ; in the other, we
may render tben^ odious, by difplaying their ab-
furdity and confequences. To the greater part o£
his readers an author cannot conrey cither plea*
fure or inftru£tion, by delivering fentiments as his
own, which contradict the generd confcience of
mankind;
Well ; but Drydcn, in the paflage lately quo-'
ted and cenfured, does not deliver his own fen-
ritftehts, but only dcfcribes thofe of another: why
then fliould he be blamed for making the un-
fortunate plowman irreligious ? Why ? Becaufc
he mifreprefents his author's meaning y and (which
is worfe) countcrafls his defign. The dcfign of
the Latin poet was, not to expatiate on the pu-
nifiiment due to blafphemy or atheifm, but to
raife pity, by defcribing the melancholy cflfcas of
a plague fo fatal to the brute creation :— a theme
very properly introduced in the conclufion of a.
poaxi on the art of rearing and preferving cattle.
Now, had Virgil faid, as Dryden has done, that
the farmer who loft his work-beaft was a blaf-
phemer, we (hould not have pitied him at all.
But Virgil fays only, that " the Ibrrowful huf-
^* bandman went, and unyoked the furviving
^< bullock, and left his plough fixed in the
" middle of the unfiniihed furrow •/*— and by
this pregnant and pidturefque brevity,' affefts us
a thoufand times more, than he could have done
by recapitulating all the fentiments of the poor
farmer in the form of a foliloqu^ v — as indeed the
view
A N D M U S I C 23
▼icw of the Tcenc, as Virgil has drawn it, with
tlic emphatic filence of the fuffercr, wDuld have
been incomparably more moving, than a long
ipeech from the plowman, fraught with moral
reflexions on death, and difappointmenr, and the
uncertainty of human things. For to a poem
mere morality is not fo ciTeniial as accurate de-
fcription*, which, however, in matters of iniport*
ance, muft have a moral tendency,^ otherwise
the human affcSions will take part againft it.
But what do you fay to the tragedy of Fenice
preferved^ in which our pity and other benevolent
emotions are engaged in behaff of thofe whom
the moral faculty difapproves' ? Is not the poetry,
for this very reafon, immoral ? And yet, is it not
pathetic and pleating ? How then can you fay,
that fomething of a moral or inftru&ive tendency
IS neceflary to make a poem agreeable ?— In an-
fwer to this, let it be obferved, — firft, That it is
natural for us to fympathife with thofe who fuf-
fcr, even when they fufFer juftly; v/hich, how-
ever, implies not arty liking to their crimes, or
that our moral fentiments arc at all perverted,
but which, on the contrary, by quickening our
fenfe of the mifery confequent upon guilr, may
be ufefut in confirming good principles, and im-
proving the moral fcnfibility of the mind :— fe-
condly. That the moft pleafing and moft pathe^
tic parts of the play in queftion, are thofe which
relate to an amiable lady, with whofe diftrefs,
ais well as with her huftand's on her account, we
rationally fympathize, becaufe ^hat arifcs from
C 4 • their
,4 ON POETIC 'y
iputual gflFeftioo ;-f-thirdl3r^ TJiit the ctmtl^rUOi%
give aplauHblc colppr to tbcir ciiufe»'ap4 f^ert
a grea|nef$ of mind, which takes off our atisentipo
from thfdr crimes, ipd leaves noom for ^hfc fendi^r
emotions to operate occafionally in their favour *•
^d fourthly, That the merit of this play, Ukf
thzt of tbi Orj^ban^ lies rather in th^ beauty of
particular pViTages, than in the general e^e^ ^
the wholf ; and tb^tt if in any part the author
has endeavoured to intereft Qur kind affe^ions in
qpppfitipn to confcienc^ his poetry lyiU there be
4)und to b^ equ^ly unplealing and uninftrudive.
But may not agreeable a^ediops arif^ in the
tniad, which partake neither of vice nor of vlr«
tue ; fuch ^s joy, and hope, and thofe emqit^f
that acf^onipany th^ contemplation of external^
beauty, or magnificence ? And, if paftorals and
fon^, and Anacreontic odes, ^waken thefe agree*
able aflfe&iohs, may npt fpch po^ms be pl^^sifing^
without being inftru&ive ? Thi^ may be, tip
dqubc. And for this re^fon, ^niong Qt^ii^fs^ |
take inftrudion tq be on^ « fecondary w4 of
poetry. But it is only by (hort poems, ^ fonga
and paftorals, that th?(e ^r^eable aiFeftion« in*
different alike (q vice and virtue, are ey:cit¥d,
without any mixcurf of Qthers^ For npQral fkvkf
timents are fo prevalent in the human npiind, that
no afifefbioQ can long fubfift there, without inter-
ntiingling with them, and b^ing aflimilated to theijf
t»(ture. Npr czfi % piec;^ of real and pleafing
poetry be extended to any great length* without
i^perating^ dire^^ly or indiredly^ either on thofe
affections
AHVf fAVSlC aB
«|Ghaioii$*^ 999 (ffii^lf ftp virtue, or oo thofe
fympuhiis$ tbnc quicken our oioral firnfibiiity^
imd prepate U9 for virOKMU impreffioos. lo faft,
Qi^'s true happineft k derived from the moral
pan of bis cpnftitytion ; and therefore we cannot
fuppofe, thtf any thing which affe<^ not his mo*
ral part» Oipuld be laftingljr and generally agrees-
^faikn We fympathize with the pleafure one takes
in z feafty where there is friend0)ip» and an in*
tj^cbm^ Qf good o$ce9 y but not with the fa»
tisfa&ion an epdcure finds in devouring a folitary
b^mqaet* Aibort Anacreontic we may relilh for
i;s inelody and fparkling images ^ but a long
poeoH in order to be ploifing, muft not only
cbvm the ear and the fancy, but alfo touch the
heart wd eiimcik the confcience.
Sdll perhaps it may be objected to tfaefe rear
failings. That Horace, in a well-known verie^,
declares the end of poetry to be two-foM, to
pleaie, or to inftruA ^ whereas, we maintain, that
the ultimate end of this art is to pleaie; in-
jftruftkm being only one of the means (and not
always a neceflary one) by which that ultimate
end is to be accomplilhed. This interpretation
of Horace has indeed been admitted by fome cri^
tics ; but it is erroneous ; for the paflage,. right-
ly underftood, will not appear to cofitain any
thing inconfiftent with the prefent doflrine. The
author is there ftating a comparifon between the
Greek and Rj>maa writeis, with a view oo the
? Avf prodeftfidan^ sut dele{iarf pvetao;
1 poetry
i6 ONPOETRY
poetry of the ftagc ; and, after conimencfrng the
former for their corre6tnefs, and for the liberal
fpirit wherewith they condufted then- Kterary la-
bours, and blaming his countrymen for their in-
accuracy and avarice, he proceeds thus : " The
** ends propofed by our dramatic poets (or by
•* poets in general) are, to plcafe, to inftruft,
** or to do both. When inftruftion is your
•* arm, let your moral fcntences be cxpreflcd
** with brevity^ that they may be readily under-
•• ftood^ and long remembered: where you
*• mean to plcafe, let your fidions be conform-
•* able to truth, or probability. The elder part
•• of your audience (or readers) have no relifli
*^ for poems that give pleafure only without in-
•' ftru£tion ; nor the younger for fuch writings
•• as give inftruftion without pleafure. He only
** can fccurc the univerfal fufFrage in his favour,
** who blends the ufeful with the agreeable, and
^^ delights at the fame time that he inftrudts the
•* reader. Such are the works that bring money
** to the bookfcllcr, that pafs into foreign coun-
*' tries, and perpetuate the author's name through
** a long fucccflion of ages*." Now, what is
the meaning of all this ? What, but that to
the perfeSiion of dramatic poetry (or, if you
pleafe, of poetry in general) both found morals
and beautiful fidion are requifite. But Horace
never meant to fay, that inftrudion, as well as
pleafure, is neceffary to give to any compofuion
• Hor. Ar. Poet. 333, — 347.
the
A N D M U S 1 C. 27
xht poetical charalfer: or he would not in ano-
ther place have celebrated, with ib much afiec*
tioii and rapture, the melting drains of S^pphOi
and the playful genius of Anacreon f ; — two au-
thors tranfcendently fweet, but not remarkablf
inftruAire. We are fure, that pathos, and har-
mony, and elevated language, were, in Horace's
opinion, eflential to poetry •-, and of thefc dc*
corations no body will affirm, that inftruflion b
the end, who confiders that the moft inftrudive
books in the world are written in plain prole.
Let this therefore be eftablilhed as a truth in cri-
ticifm. That the end of poetry is, to please*
Verfcs, if pleafing, may be poetical, though they
convey little or no inftruftion ; but verfes, whole
fole merit is, that they convey inftru&ion, are not
poetical. Inftrudtion, however, efpecially in poems
of length, is ncccflary to their perfeliim^ becaufe
they would not be perfeSlly agreeable without it*
CHAP. 11.
Of the Standard of Poetical Invention.
HOMER's beautiful defcription of the heavens
and earth, as they appear in a calm evening
by the light of the moon and ftars, concludes with
Uiis circumftancc, •* And the heart of the (hcpw
t Hor, Carm. lib.' 4, ode 9.
^Hor.Sat. lib. i» fat. 4. yerC 40.
"herd
a« ONPOETRT
« herd is glad f." Madatne Dacier» ftom the turri
ihe gives to thepaflage it)iierterfion|feamtoth]i&^
and Pope, m cH-derperhaps to make out his couplet^
iofinuates, that the gladnefsof the &e^erd is aw-
kg to bis fenfe of the mility of thdie lufBtnaries.
And this may in part be the cafe : but this ss not in
Homer; nor isitaneceflaryconficteration. Itistrue^
that, in contemplating the material univerfe, they
who difcern the caufes and tSe&s of things mtift be
more rapturoufly entertained, than thofe who per-
ceive nothing but fliape and fize, colour and mo-
tion. Yet, io the mere outfid^ of Nature's works,
(if I may fo exprefs myfclf,) thei^ is a fplendoor,
and a magnificence, to which even untutored minds
cannot attend, without great delight.
Not that all peafants, or all phiJofopherSy arc
equally fufceptible of thcfc charming impreffions.
It is ftrangc to obferve the calloufnefs of feme meft,
before whom aU the glories of heiwen and eartb
pafs in daily fuccefllon, without touching their
hearts, elevating their fancy, or leaving any dura-
ble remembrance. Even of thofe who pretend to
fenfibility, how many are there to whom the luftre
of the Fifing or letting fun ; the fparkling Concave
of the midnight-fky j the mountain-foreft toffing
and roaring to the ftorm, or warbling with all the
melodies of a fummer-evening ; the fwcet inter-
ehafige of bill and dale, fliade and funlhine^ gpovci
lawn^ and water, which an extenfive landfeape
offers to the view ; the fcenery of the ocean, fo
f IMa<J, b. 8« verf. 555.
lovely.
ANDMUSIC 29
lovely, fo majeftic, and 6> tmnendous, and the
many pleafing vaPietics of the animal and rege^
table kingdom, could never aSbrd ib much real fa-
dsfiEidtiont as she fteams and noife of a ball-room,
the infipid fiddling and fqueaking of an opera, or
the vexattona and wranglings of a card-table !
But fome minds there are of a different make ;
who, even in the early part of life, receive from
the contemplation of Nature a fpecics of delight
which they would hardly exchange for any other ;
and who, as avarice and ambition are not the ia»
Brmities of that period, would, with equal Sinceri-
ty and rapture, exclaim,
I care not. Fortune, what you me deny $
You cannot vob me oC free NatureV gracri
Yiou cannot fllut tbe windows of the floy,
Through which Aurora (hows^herhrlg^tening face;
Xoui cannot bar my conftant feet to trace
Xh0 wood4. and. lawns by living ftream at eve*.—
Such minds, have always in them the feeds of true
tafte, and fixquently of imitative genius. At leaft,
though their enthufiaftic or vifionary turn of mind
(as the man of the world would call it) fhould not
alwlays incline them to praftife poetry or painting,
we need not fcrupte to affirm, that without fome
portion of this enthufiafm, no perfon ever became
a true poet or painter. For he who would imitate
the works of nature, muft firft accurately obferve
* Cdftle of Indolence.
them;
so O N P O E T R Y
them ; and accurate obfervation is to be expefted
£rom thofe onl^ who take great pleafure in iu
To a mind thus difpofed, no part of creation is
indifierent. In the crouded city, and howling
wildernefs ; in the cultivated province, and folitary
i(le*,'in the flowery lawn, and craggy mountain;
in the murmur of the rivulet, and in the uproar of
the ocean i in the radiance of fummcr, and gloom
of winter-, in the thunder of heaven, and in the
whifper of the breeze ; he ftill finds fomething ta
roufe or to footh his imagination, to draw forth
his afFedlions, or to employ his undcrftanding.
And from every mental energy that is not attended
with pain, and even from fome of thofe that are,
as moderate terror and pity, a found mind derives
fatisfaftion ; cxercife being equally neccflary to the
body and the foul, and to both equally productive
of health and pleafure.
This happy fenfibility to the beauties of Nature
ihould be cheriihcd in young perfons. It engages
them to contemplate the Creator in his wonderful
works •, it purifies and harmonizes the foul, and
prepares it for moral and intclleftyal difcipline ; it
fupplies a never-failing fource of amufepient ; it
contributes even to bodily health *, and, as a ftridfc
analogy fubfifts between materia and mora)
beauty, it leads the heart by an eafy tranfition
from the one to the other •, and thus recommends
virtue for its tranfcendent lovelinefs, and makes
vice appear the objeft of contempt and abomina-
tion. An intimate acquaintance with the beft dc-
fcriptive poets, Spcnfcr, Milton, and Thomfon,
But
AND MUSIC. ;ji
but above all with the divide Gcbrgic, joioed lo
foine practice in the art of drawing, will prooiote
. this amiaUe feofibility i^ early years ^ for then the
face of Nature has novelty fuperadded to its other
charms, the paflions are not pre*cngaged, the
heart is fitre from care^ and the imaginaxioa warm
and romantic
Bur, not to infift longer on thofe ardent emo-
tions that are peculiar to the enchufiaftic diiciple
of Nature, may it not be affirmed of all men,
without exception, or at leaft of all the enlightefi-
ed part\>f mankind, that they are gratified by the
contemplation of things natural, as oppofed to un-
natural? Monllrous fights pleafe but for a mo-
ment, if they pleafe at all; for they derive their
charm from the beholder's amazement, which is
quickly over, I have read indeed of a man of rank
in Sicily *, who chufes to adorn his villa with pic-
tures and ftatuesofmoft unnatural deformity; but
it is a fingular inftance: and one would not be
much more furprifed to hear of a perfon living
without food, or growing fat by the ufe of poifon.
To fay of any thing, that it is contrary to Natur-e^
denotes cenfure and difguft on the part of the
fpeaker; as the epithet natural intimates an agr^e*
able quaUty, and feems f(W the mod part to imply,
that a thing is as it ought to be, fuitable to our
own tafte, and coDgenial with our own conflitu-
tion. Think, with what fentiments we lliotild
pcrufe a.poem, in which Nature was totally milre-
• Sec Mr. Brydone% Tour in Sicily, tetter €4..
prelented»
j2 ON POET HY
tk>fi fupfK>fed to uke phecf, Repugnant to every
Mng we bad fee0 dr h^ftl of :^-^^ whkb^ for (%t-*
afhfde, avarice and coldiie6 utre aferibed to ]^(MtA9
and prad^ality and pafiionate attacbmenc to tlile
oM t in which men: were made to aft at huidbniy
fometimes according to diarafter, and fometknes
contrary to h; m wfaicfa cnieky »d envf were
produftive of lore, and beneike^ce and* kind all*
fe^bn of katred ; m which beauty was in^riabPy
the objeft of diflike, amd uglbe & of defire $ in
wRich Ibcicty was rendieretf happy by atheifm, and
the promifcuous perpetration of crimes, and juftice
and fortitude were hefd rn tiniverfol contempt.
Or think, how^wefhoufd relifh apaiming, wh<arc
no regard was had to the proportions, colours^. Or
any of the phyGcat laws, of N^ature : — where the
ears and eyes of animals were placed in their
Ihduiders-, where the (ky was green, and thegrafs
crimfbn ; where trees grew with their branches in
the earth, and their roots in the air;, where men
were fcen fighting after their heads were cut oflf,
fhips failing on the land, lions entangled in cob-
webs, Ihcep preying on dead carcaflcs, filhes fporfr- -
ing in the woods, and elephants Walking on the
fea. Could fuch figures and combinatioifs^give
pleafure, or merit the appellation of fublime or
beautiful ? Should we hefitate.to pronounce their
author mad? And' are the abfurdities of madmen
proper fubjefts either of amufement or of imitatioii
to reafonable beioga i
Let
AND MUSIC u
Li5t It be remarked too, that though we dlftin-
guiih our internal powers by different names, be*
caufe otherwife we could not fpeak of them fo ai
to be underftood, they are all but fo many energies
of the fame individual mind ; and therefore it is
not to be fuppofed, that what contradifts any one
leading faculty fhould yield permanent delight to
the reft. That cannot be agreeable to reafon, which
confciencc difapproves j nor can that gratify ima-
gination which is repugnant to reafon. — Befides,
belief and acquiefcence of mind are pleafant,
as diftruft and difbelicf are painful -, and therefore^
that only can give folid and general fatisfaftion,
which has fomething of plaufibilicy in it j fome*
thing which we conceive it poffible for a rational
being to believe. But no rational being can acqui-
cfce in what is obvioufly contrary to nature, or im-
plies palpable abfurdity.
Poetry, therefore, and indeed every art whofe
end is to pleafe, muft be natural; and if fo, muft
exhibit real matter of fa6b, or fomething like it i
that is, in other words, muft be, either accord-
ing to truth, or according to verifimilicude.
And though every part of the material univerfc
abounds in objefts of pleafurable contempla*
tion, yet nothing in nature fo powerfully touches
our hearts, or gives fo great variety of excrcifc
to our moral and intelledtual faculties, as man.
Human affairs and human feelings are univerfally
interefting. There are many who Ifave no great
relifh for the poetry that delineates only irrational
or inanimate beings ; but to that which exhibits
34 O N P O E T R Y
the fortunes^ the charaftcrs, and the conduiSt of
men, there is hardly any peribn who does not
liften with fympathy and delight. And hence,
to imitate human aflion^ is confidered by ArU
ilotte as elTcntial to this art \ and is indeed efien-
tial to the moft pleafmg and moft inftrudive pare
of ity I mean to epic and dramatic compofition.
Mere defcriptions, however beautiful, and moral
rcfledions, however juft, become tirefome, where
our palTions are not occafionally awakened by
fome event that concerns our fellow- men. Da
not all readers of taffe receive peculiar pleafurc
from thofe little tales or epifodes, with which
Thomfon*s ddcriptivc poem on the Seafons b
here and there enlivened ? and are they not fen-
fible, that the thunder-ftorm would not have been
half fo interefting without the tale of the twa.
lovers *} nor the harveft fcene, without that of
Palemon and Lavinia -f ; nor the driving fnows,
without that exquifite pidure of a man periftiing
among them ;[: ? It is much to be regretted, that
Young did not employ the fame artifice to ani-
mate his Night-Thoughts. Sentiments and de-
fcriptions may be regarded as the pilafters, carv-
ings, gildings, and other decorations of the poe-
tical fabric ; but human actions are the columns
and the rafters, that give it (lability and eleva-
tion. Or, changing the metaphor, we may con-
fider thefe as the foul which informs the lovely
• Summer, vcrf. 1171.
•t^ Autumn» vcrf. 177.
J Winter, veff. 276,
frame j^
A f? i> M ti S I t. 3s
trim(i j while thofe arc little more t&an the orna-
ments of the body.
Whether the pleafure we take in things natural,
aAd our dilllke to what is the revcrfe, be theeffeft
o^ habit or of conftitution, is not a material in-
quiry. There is nothing abfurd in fuppofing, that
between the foul, in its £rft formation, and the
tcft of riature, a mutual harmony and fympathy
may have been eftabliflied, which experience may
indeed confirm, but no perverfc habits could en-
tirely fubdue. As no fort of education could
tiiake man believe the contrary of a felf- evident
axiom, or reconcile him to a life of perfeft foli-
tude ; fo I (hould imagine, that our love of na-
ture and regularity might ftill remain with us in
fome degree, though we had been born and bred-
in the Sicilian villa above mentioned, and never
heard any thing applauded but what d^ferved ceiv
fure, nor cenfured but what merited applaufe.
Yet habit muft be allowed to have a powerful,
influence over the fentiments and feelings of man-
kind. Objefts to which we have been long ac-
cuftomed, we are apt to contrafl: a fondncfs for j
we conceive them readily, and contemplate them
with pleafure ; nor do we quit our old trafts of fpe-
culation or practice. Without rcludance and pain.
Hence in part arifes our attachment to our own
profeflions, our old acquaintance, our native foil,
our homes, and to the very hills, dreams, and
rocks in our neighbourhood. It would there-
fore be ftrange, if man, accuftomed as he is from
his earlicft days to the regularity of nature, did
D 2 not
36 ONPOETRY
not contraft a liking to her produftioos, and
principles of operation.
Yet we neither expedt nor defire, that every
human invention, where the end is only topleafe»
fliould be an exa£t tranfcript of real exiftence. It
is enough, that the mind acquiefce in it as pro-
bable, or plaufible, or fuch as we think might
happen without any direct oppofition to the laws
of Nature :— or, to fpeak more accurately, it is
enough, that it be confident, either, firft, with
general experience ; or, fecondly, with popular
opinion; or, thirdly, that it be confident with
itfelf, and connected with probable circumftances.
Firft : If a human invention be confiftent with
general experience, we acquiefce in it as fuffi*
ciently probable. Particular experiences, how-
ever, there may be, fo uncommon and fo little
expefted, that we ftiould not admit their proba-
bility, if we did not know them to be true. No
man of fenfe believes, that he has any likelihood
of being enriched by the , difcovery of hidden
treafure ; or thinks it probable, on purchafing a
lottery-ticket, that he Ihall get the firft prize j
and yet great wealth has aftually been acquired
by fuch good fortune. But we ftiould look upon
thefe as poor expedients in a play or romance for
bringing about a happy cataftrophe. We ex-
peft that fiftion ftiould be more confonant to the
general tenor of human affairs ; in a word, that
not poflibility, but probability, fliould be the
. ftandard of poetical invention.
Secbndly :
AND MUSIC. 37
Secondly : Fi(^ion is admitted as conformable
to this ftandard, when it accords with received
opinions. Thefe may be erroneous, but are not
often apparently repugnant to nature. On this
account, and becaufe they are familiar to us from
our infancy, the mind readily acquicfces in them,
or at leaft yields them that degree of credit
which is ncceffary to render them plealing.
Hence the fairies, ghofts, and witches of Shake-
fpeare, are admitted as probable beings ; and an«
gels obtain a place in religious pi<5tures, though
they do nos now appear in the fcenery of real
life. Even when a popular opinion has long
been exploded, and has become repugnant to
univerfal belief, the fiflions built upon it are
ftill admitted as natural, becaufe they were ac-
counted fuch by the people to whom they were
firft addrefled ; whofe fentiments and views of
things we are willing to adopt, when, by the
power of pleaiing defcription, we are introduced
into their fcenes, and made acquainted with their
manners. Hence we admit the theology of the
ancient poets, their Elyfium and Tartarus, Scylla
and Charybdis, Cyclops and Circe, and the reft
of thcrfc " beautiful wonders** (as Horace calls
them) which were believed in the heroic ages ;
as well as the demons, and enchantments of Taflb,
which may be fuppofed to have obtained no
fmall degree of credit among the Italians of the
fixteenth century, and are fuitable enough to
the notions that prevailed univerfally in Europe
D 3 not
^8 ON POET R¥
not long before *. In faft, when Poetry b ii»
other refpefts true; when it gives an accuratp
difplay of thpfe parts of nature about which we
know that men in all ages muft have entertained
the fame opinion, I mean thofe appearances in
^he vifible creation, ^n(i thofe feelings and workr
ings of the human mind, which are obvious %q
^1 mankind ^-^when Poetry, I fay, i% |hus far
according to nature, we are yery willing to be
indulgent to what is (idlitious in it, and to grant
a temporary allowance to any fyftem of fable
which the author pleafes to ^dopt; provided that
|ie lay the fcene in a diilant country, or fix the
date to a remote period. This is no unreaipnable
complaifance : we owe it both tp the poet and
%Q ourfelves 5 Tor without it we Ihould neither
form a right eftjmate of his genius, nor receive
from his wofks that pleafure which tjiey were in?
tended to impart. Let him, however, take care*
that his fyftem of fablp be fuch, as hif country-
• In tlie fpurteenth century, ^he coii^moQ people of Italy be:-
lieved, that the poet Dante adttially wept down to bdh that the
Jbi/trn$ was a true account of what he faw there ; and that \ds
fallow complexion, and fiunted beard (which ieemed by its
growth and Colour to have been too near the fire), were the con-
fequence of his paHing fo much time in that hot and fmpky re*
gjon. Sie Vicenjfe della Utera^ura del Sig. C, penina^ cof^ 4.— •
Sir John Mandcville's Book of Travels, written not long after,
was not only ratified by the Pope, after haying been compared
with the Mappa Mundi of that time, but, what is more flrarge,
feems to have Bieen feriouily believed by that adventurous knight
himfelf, though a man of con fiderable learning, and no defpicable
taile. ^et the Conclujton of tbi BooA.
men
A N D M U S I C. 39
flien and contemporaries (to whom his work is
immediately addrefled) might be fuppofed ca-
pable of yielding their aflent to; for otherwife
we fhould not believe him to be in earned : and
let him conneft it as much as he can with pro-
bable circumftances, and make it appear in a
feries of events confident with itfelf.
For (thirdly) if this be the cafe, we (hall ad-
mit his ftory as probable, or at lead as natural,
and confequently be intereded in it, even though
it be not warranted by general experience, and
derive but flender authority from popular opi-
nion. Calyban, in the Temped, would have
ihocked the mind as an improbability, if we had
not been made acquainted with bis origin, and
fcen his chara^er difplayed in a feries of confident
behaviour. But when we are told, that he fprung
from a witch and a demon, a connection not coi|-
trary to the laws of Nature, as they were under-
dood in Shakefpeare's time, and find his manners
conformable to his dcfcenr. We are eafily recon-
ciled to the fidlion. In the fame fenfe, the Lilli-
putians of Swift may pafs for probable beings ;
not fo much becaufe we know that a belief in
pygmies was once current in the world (for the
true ancient pygmy was at lead thrice as tall as
thofe whom Gulliver vifited), but becaufe wc
find, that every circumdance relating to them
accords with itfelf, and with their fuppofed Cha-
rafter. It is not the fize of the people only that
is diminutive ; their country, feas, dilps, and
(owns, are all in exa£t proportion^ their tbeolo-
D 4 gicai
40 ON POETRY
gical and political princlpks, their paOioxis^ tmn^
ners, ^cuftoms^ an<d all the p^rts of their conduct*
betray a levity and littlen^fs perfedly fuitablc;
and fo fim^le is the whole narration, and appa-
rently fp artlefs and fincere, that I fhould not
much wonder, if it had impofed (as I have been
told it has) upon fome perfons of no conteoiptible
under'ftanding. The fame degree of credit may
perhaps for the fame reafons be due to his giants.
But when he grounds his narrative upon a contra*
diftion to nature -, when he prefents us with ra-
tional brutes, and irrational men -, when he tell$
ps of horfes building houfes for habitation, milk^
ing cows for food, riding in carriages, and hold-
ing converfations on the laws and politics of
Europe j not all his genius (and he there exerts
ft to the qtmoft) is able to reconcile us to fo
monftrous a fiction : we may fmile at fome of
Jiis abfurd exaggerations j we may be pleafed
with the energy of ftyle, ^nd accuracy of defcrip-
tion, in particular places; and a malevolent
heart may triumph in the fatire : but we can ne-
ver reli(h it as a fable, becaufe it is at once un-
natural and felf-contradiftory. Swift's judgment
feems to hav<: forfaken him on this occafion ^: he
wallows
* There are improprieties in this narrative, which one would
think a very flight attention to nature might have prevented $
and which, witbont heightening the fatire, ferve oi^ly to aggra-
vate the abfurdity of the fable, tiouyb^bnms are horfes in perr
fe^ion, with the addition of realbn and virtue. Whatever,
therefore, takes away from their perfection as horfes, without
a4^ing to their r^tjon^l a^d tnofa} ^^cptpplifiimentSy paft bo
• repugqam
AND MUSIC. 41
wallows in naftinefs and brutality ; and the gene-
rat run of his fatire is downright defamation.
Lucian's True Hifiory is a heap of extravagancies
put together without order or unity, or any
other apparent defign, than to ridicule the lan-
guage and manner of grave authors. His rav-
ings, which have no better right lo the name of
Fable, than a hill of rubbifli has to that of Pa-
lace, arc deftitute of every colour of plaufibility.
Animal trees, (hips failing in the (ky, armies of
monftrous things travelling between the fun and
moon on a pavement of cobwebs, rival nations
of m^n inhabiting woods and mountains in ai
irpagnant to thp author's defign, and ought not^o have found a
place in his narration. Yet he makes his beloved quadrupeds
^^weil in houfes of their own building, and ufe njcarmfoid and
the milk of cows as a delicacy : though thefe luxuries, fuppofed
attainable by a nation of horfes. could contribute no more to
dieir perfediiony than brandy and imprifonment would to that of
a man.-T; — Again, did Swift believe, that religious ideas are na**
tpral to a reafooable being, and ncceflary to the happinefs of a
inoral one ? I hope he did. Yet has he reprefented his bouybnbnmif
as patterns of moral virtue, as the greateft mad^rs of reaibn, and
withal as completely happy, without any religious ideas, or any
views beyond the prefent life. In a word, he would make flu*
pidity confident with mental excellence^ and unnatural appetites
with *animal perfedlion. Thefe, however, are fmall matters^
compared with the other abfurdities of this abominable tale.-^
But when a Chriftian Divine can iet himfelf deliberately to
trample upon that, nature, which he knows to have been made
but a little lower than the angels, and to have been aiTumed by
One far more exalted than they ; we need not be furprifed if
the fame perverfe habits of thinking which harden his hearti
flioiild alfii d^bafe his judgment,
whale's
4s O N P O E t R y
whak'^ bcUy,-^iirc Hker the dreams of a bed)a-
f)oke, than tb^ inventions of a rational being.
If w^ were to profec^te this fubjcd any fur^
th^Tj it would be proper to remark, that in fonrie
)()nds of pqcticaji invention a ftrider probability
is required than in others : — that, for inftance^
Conoedy, whether Dramatic or Narrative *, mui^
£bldoai deviate from the ordinary courfe of hu-
man affairs, becaufe it exhibits the manners of
teal, and even of familiar life 5 — that the Tragic
poet» becaufe he imitates chara^lcrs more exalted,
and generally refers to events little known, or
long fince paft, may be allowed a wider range j
but muft never attempt the marvellous fiftions of
the Epic Mufe, becaufe he addreffes his work,
not only to the paflions and imagination of man-
kind, but alfo to their eyes and ears, which ar<?
pot eafily impofed on, and refufe to be gratified
with any reprefentation that docs not come very
near the truth ; — that the Epic Poem may claim
ftill ampler privileges, becaufe its fiAions are not
fubjeft to the fcrutiny of any outward fcnfe, and
becaufe it conveys information in regard both to
the higheft human charadters, and the mod im-
portant and wonderful events, and alfo to the
affairs of unfecn worlds, and fuperior beings,
TNor would it be improper to obferVe, that the
icvcral fpecies of Comic, of Tragic, of Epic conv
♦ Fielding's Tom yom$^ Ameliuy and Jofeph Andrenfos^ arc
examples of what i call the Epic or Narrative Comedy : perhaps
th$ Comic Efofet is a more proper tern.
pofition.
A N P M U S I €. 43
pofitioa^ are not confined tq ihe Ciinc degree of
probal^iUty ^ for that Farce may be allowed (o be
Ufs probable than^ the re^lar Comedy^ the
JMafqifc^ than th; regular Tragedy » aiu) the
Mixed Epic, fuch as The Fairy Quecii, and
Orlando Fiiriofp, |:han the pure Epopee of Ho-
mer, Virgil, and Milton.^ Buf: thu part of the
fubje£t fe^ips not to require further illuftratioQ*
pncnigh has been faid, to (how, that nothing
unnatural can pleafe i and that therefore Poetry^
whofe end is t^ pleafe, muft be aocordihg T9
NATURE.
And if fo, it muft be, either acc5rding to real
nature, or according to nature fomewhat different
from the reality,
CHAP. III.
Ppeiry exhibits afyjlem of nature fotnewbat differ en f
from the reality of things.
TO exhibit real nature is the bufinefs of the hiA
torian ; who, if he were ftridily to conBne
himfelf to his own fphere, would never record even
the minuteft circumftance of any fpccch, event, or
flefcription, which was not warranted by fuificient
authority. It has been the language of critics in
every age, that the hiftorian ought to relate no«
thing as true which is falfe or dubious, and to con-
ceal nothing material which he knows to be true.
6 But
44 ONPOETRY -
But I doubt whether ^ny writer of profane hiftory
has ever been fo fcrupulous. Thucydides himfelf,
who began his hiftory when that war began which
he records, and who fet down every event foon af-
ter it happened, according to the moft authentic
information, feems however to have indulged his
fancy not a littk in his harangues and ckfcriptions,
particularly that of the plague of Athens : And
the fame thing has been praftifed, with greater la-
titude, by Livy and Tacitus, and more or lefs by
UlU the beft hiftorians, both ancient and modern.
Nor do I blame them for it. By thefe improved
or invented fpeeches, and by the heightenings thus
given to their defcriptions,. their work becomes
more intcrefting, and more ufeful ; nobody is de-
ceived, and hiftorical truth is not materially afFeft-
cd. A medium is however to be obferved in this,
as in other things. When the hiftorian lengthens
a defcription into a detail of fiftitious events, as
Voltaire has done in his account of the battle of
Fontenoy^ he lofes his credit with us, by railing a
fufpicion that he is more intent upon a pretty ftory,
than upon the truth. And we are difgufted with
his infincerrty, when, in defiance even of verifi-
militude, he puts long and elaborate orations in
the mouth of thofe, of whom we know, either from
the circumftances that they could not, or from
more authentic records that they did not, make
any fuch orations •, as Dionyfius of Halicarnaflus
has done, in the cafe of VoIUmnia haranguing her
fon Coriolanus, and Flavius Jofephus in that of
5 Judah
A N D MUSIC. 45
Judah addrefling his brother as viceroy of Egypt.
From what thefe hiftorians relate, one would con-
jefture, that the Roman matron had ftudied at
Athens under fome long-winded rhetorician, and
that the Jewilb patriarch muft have been one of
the moft flowery orators of antiquity. But the fic-
titious part of hiftory, or of ftory-telling, ought
never to take up much room i and muft be highly
blameable when it leads into any miftake either of
fafts or of characters.
Now, why do hiftorians take the liberty to em*
bellifli their works in this manner ? One reafon, no
doubt, is, that they may difplay their talents in
oratory and narration : But the chief reafon, as
hinted already, is, to render their compofltion more
agreeable. It would feem, then, that fomething
more pleafing than real nature; or fomething which
fliall add to the pleafing qualities of real nature,
may be devifed by human fancy. And this may
certainly be done. And this it is the poet's bufi-
nefs to do. And when this is in any degree done
by the hiftorian, his narrative becomes in that de-
gree poetical.
The poffibility of thus improving upon nature
muft be obvious to every one. When we look at
a landfcape, we can fancy a thoufand additional
embelliftiments. Mountains loftier and more pic-
turcfque; rivers more copious, more limpid, and
more beautifully winding; fmoother and wider
lawns ; vallies more richly diverfified} caverns and
rocks more gloomy and more ftupendous ; ruins
more majeftic; buildings more magnificent ; oceans
more
^ dJJPOETRt
more varied withiflancJs, more fplendid with itiipJ-*
pingj or more agitated by ftormj than any we hav<?
ever feen, it is ealy for human imagination to con*
ceive^ Many things in art and nature exceed bx-
jjeftationj but nothing fenfibJe tranfcfends, of
cc^^k the capacity of thought :— a ftriking evi-
Ajnce of the dignity of tht humane foul! The
Ra^St woman in the world appears to every eye fuf-
cfepeiblc of improvement, cxtept perhaps to that
of her lover. No wonder, tthen, if in poetry
events can h6 exhibited more compact, and of
ifiore pleafing variety, thajvxhofe delineated by the
hx&qt^zrij and fccnc^:^ inanimate nature more
dreadful or moi^'lovely, and human charafters
more fubliffieand more exquifite both in good and
eviL Yet ftill let nature fupply the ground-work:
and materials, as well as the ftandard, of poetical
fiftion. The moft expert painters ufe a layman^
or other vifible figure, to direft their hand and re-
gulate their fancy. Homer himfelf founds his two
poems on authentic tradition ; and Tragic as well
a« Epic poets have followed the example. The
writers of romance too are ambitious to interweave
true adventures with their fables-, and, when it
can be conyeniently done, to take the outlines of
their plan from real life. Thus the tale of Robin*
ion Crufoe is founded on an incident that adbually
befel one Alexander Selkirk, a fea-faring man,
who lived feveral years alone in the ifland of Juan
Bernandes ; Smollet is thought to have given us
fome of his own adventures in the hiftory of Ro-
derick Random i and the chief charaftcrs in Tom
Jpncs,
A N O M U S f C. 47
Jones^ Jofcph Andrews, and P^m^Ia, ^e faid to
have been copied from Feat o#igk>ab.-^^Drdffifttie
Comedy, indeed, is hr the nwft pdit purelf Mi-
tk>M i for if it were eo exbibic real t^tnt^^ welt cit
prefent manners, ft would become too perfonsl f»
be endiired by a well-bred audience, and degene-^
rate into downright abufe; which appears to havie
been the cafe with the ofd comedy of the Greeks*.
But, in general, hints taken from real exiftence
wifl be found to give no little grace and ftabilicy
to fifliion, ev<5n in the moft fanciful poems. Thofc
tiints, however, may be improved by the poet^s
imagination, and fet off wiift everv probable orna-
ment that can be devifcd, confidently with thede-
fign and genius of the work ; — or, in other words,
with thefympathies that the poet means to awaken
in the mind of his reader. For mere poetical orna-
ment, when it fails to intefeft the affedions, is not
only ufelefs but improper^ all true poetry being
addrefled to the hearty and intended to give plea-
iure by railing or foothing the pafiions ; — the only
efGr<5h}al way of pleafing a rational and moral crea*
ture. i\nd therefore I would take Horace's maxim
to be univerfal in poetry i " Non latis eff, pulchra
"' effc poemata ^ McU funto j" " It is not enough
" that poems be beautiful v l«t them, alio be affe£l-
•• ingi^* — ^for that this is the meaning of the word
♦ Compare Hon lib. i. ftt. 4. vcrf* i.— 5* with Ar. Boer..
^«rf. 2S1.— 285.
dulcia^
4S ONPOETRY
dukia^ is admitted by the bed interpittel1i^..and is
evident from the context*.
That the fentiments and feelings of percipienc
beings, when exprefled in poetry, ihould call forth
cura£feftions, is natural enough ; botcandefcrip*
tions of inanimate things alfo be made afiefbing ?
Certainly they can : and the more they affed, the
more they pleafe us ; and the more poetical we al*
low them to be. Virgil's Georgic is a noble
Ipecimen (and indeed the noblcft in the world) of
this fort of poetry. His admiration of external
nature gains upon a reader of tafte, till it rife to
perfedt enthufiafm. The following obfervations
will perhaps explain this matter.
Every thing in nature is complex in itfelf, and
bears innumerabjie relations to other things ; and
may therefore be viewed in an endlefs variety of
lights, and confequently defcribed in an endlefs
variety of ways. Some defcriptions are good, and
others bad. An hiftorical defcription, that enume*
rates all the qualities of any objedt, is certainly
good, becaufe it is true ; but may be as unafFeft-
ing as a logical definition. In poetry no unafFe£t-
ing defcription is good, however conformable to
truth} for here we expeft not a complete enume-
ration of qualities (the chief end of the art being,,
to pleafe), but only fuch an enumeration as may
give a lively and interefting idea. It is not me-
mory, or the knowledge of rules, that can qualify
a poet for this fort of defcription ^ but a peculiar
• Hor. Ar. Poet, verf, 95. — 100.
livelinefs
A N D M U S I C. 49
liirelinefs of fancy and feniibilicy of heart, the na-
ture whereof we miy explain by its efFcfts, though
wc cannot lay down rules for the attainment of it.
When our mind is occupied by any emotion, we
naturally ufe words, and meditate on things, that
are fuitable to it, and tend to encourage ic. If a
man were to write a letter when he is very angry,
there would probably be fomething of vehemence
or bitternefs in the ftyle, even though the perfon
to whom he wrote were not the objeft of his anger.
The fame thing holds true of every other ftrong
palllon or emotion: — while it predominates in the
mind, it gives a peculiarity to our thoughts, as
well as to our voice, geliure, and countenance :
and hence we expeft, that every perfonage intro-
duced in poetry fliould fee things through the me-
dium of his ruling paiTion, and that his. thoughts
and language fhould be tindured accordingly. A
melancholy man walking in a grove, attends to
thofe things that fuit and encourage his melancho-
ly ; the fighing of ^he wind in the trees, the mur-
muring of waters, the darknefs and folitude of the
(hades: a chearful man in tfie fame place, finds
many fubjcdts of chearful meditation, in the finging
of birds, the brilk motions of the babling ftream,
and the livelinefs and variety of the verdure. Per-
fons of different charafters, contemplating the fame
thing, a Roman triumph, for inftance, feel differ-
ent emotions, and turn their view to different ob-
jefts. One is filled with wonder at fuch a difplay
of wealth and power; another exults in the idea of
conqueft, and pants for military renown •, a third,
£ fiunned
50 0NP0ETRY
ftunncd with clamour, and harafled with confufioit,
wifhes for filence, fecurity, and foiitude ; one riiclw
with pity to the vanquiftied, and makes many a
fad reflexion upon the infignificancc of wortdly
grandeur, and the uncertainty of human things;
while the buffoon, and perhaps the phibfopher,
confiders the whole as a vain piece of pageantry,
which, by its folemn procedure, and by the admi-
ration of fo many people, is only rendered the morfc
ridiculous: — and each of thefe perfons would dc-
fcribe it in a way fuitable to his own feelings, and
tending to raife the fame in others. We fee in
Milton's Allegro and Penferofo, how a different
caft of mind produces a variety in the manner of
conceiving and contemplating the fame rural fcene-
ry. In the former of thefe excellent poems, the
author perfonates a chearful man, and takes notic6
of thofe thinga in external nature that are fuitabfe
to chearful thoughts, and tend to encourage them ^
in the latter, 'every objed; defcribed is ferious and
folemn, and produftive of calm rcHedion and ten-
der melancholy : and I (hould not be eafily per-
fuaded, that Milton wrote the firfl under the in^
flucnce of forrow, or the fecond under that of glad-^
nefs. — ^We often fee an author's charafter in his
works; and if every author were in earneft when^
he writes, we Ihould oftener fee it. Thomfon wai
a man of piety and benevolence, and a warm ad-
mirer of the beauties of nature ; and every defcrip-
tion4ri his delightful poem on the Seafons tends to
raife the fame laudable affeftions in his reader.
3 Thc^
ANt) MUg^te; St
I'he parts^of nature that attrafft his notice are thofe
^vhich an impious or hardhearted man would nei-
ther attend to nor be affcfted with, at Icaft in tht
fame manner. In Swift we fee a turn of mind very
different from that of the amiable Thomfon; lit-
tle relifli for the fublime or beautifulj and a. per-
petual fucceflion of violent emotions. All his
piftures of human life fecm to Ihow, that deformi-
ty and meannefs were the favourite objefts of hid
attention, and that his foul was a conftant prey to
indignation *, difguft, and other gloomy paflions
ariGng from fuch a view of things. And it is the
tendency of almofl: all his writings (though it was
not always the author's defign) to communicate the
fame paffions to his reader : infomuch, that, not-
>vithftanding his erudition, and knowledge of the
world, his abilities as a popular orator and man of
bufinefs, the energy of his ftyle, the elegance of
feme of his verfes, and his extraordinary talents!
in wit and humour, there is reafon to doubt,
•whethfcr by ftudying his works any perfon was
fever much improved in piety or benevolence.
And thus we fee, how the compofitions of an
ingenious author may operate upon the heart,
whatever be the fubjedt. The afFeftions tha£
prevail in the author himfelf direft his attention
to obje£ts congenial, and give a peculiar bias to
* For part of this remark we have his own aathority^ often
it his letters, and very explicitly in the Latin Epitaph which he
compofed for himfelf : — *' ubi faeva indigDatio ulterius cor la^
** cerare nequit/' Sfe his laft nvi/I and ufiament^
£ 1 his
52 O N P O E T R Y
his inventive powers, and a peculiar colour to his
language* Hence his work, as well as face, if
.Nature is permitted to exert herfelf freely in it,
will exhibit a pidure of his mind, and awaken
correlpondent fympathies in the reader. When
thc{c*^are favourable to virtue, which they always
ought to be, the work will have that fweet pa^
thos which Horace alludes to in the paflage above
mentioned ; and which we fo highly admire, and
fo warmly approve, even in thofc parts of the
Gcorgic that defcribe inanimate nature.
Horace's account of the matter in queftion
differs not from what is here given. " It is
" not enough," fays he, " that poems be beau-
" tiful; let them be affefting, «nd agitate the
" mind with whatever paffions the poet wifhes
" to impart. The human countenance, as it
" fmiles on thofe who fmile, accompanies alfo
^\ with fympathetic tears thofe who mourn. If
'^ you would have me weep, you muft firft weep
" yourfelf ; then, and not before, fhall I be tou-
" chcd With your misfortunes. — For nature firft
" makes the emotions of our mind correfpond
^' with our circumftances, infufing real joy, for-
" row, or refentment, according to the occafion ;
*' and afterwards gives the true pathetic utterance
** to the voice and language *." — This doftrine,
which concerns the orator and the player no lefs
than the poet, is ftriftly philofophical, and equal-
ly applicable to dramatic, to defcriptive, and in-
* Ar. Poet. verf. 99. — iii. •
5 deed
A K D M U S I C. 53
deed to every fpecies of interefting poetry. The
poet's fenfibility muft firft of all engage him
warmly in his fubjeft, and in every part of it;
otherwife he will labour in vain to intereft the
reader. If he would paint external nature, as
Virgil and Thomfon have done, fo as to make
her amiable to others, he muft firft be enamoured
of her himfelf; if he would have his heroes and
heroines fpeak the language of love or forrow,
devotion or courage, ambition or anger, benevo-
lence or pity, his heart muft be fufceptible of
thofe emotions, and in fome degree feel them, as
long at leaft as he employs himfelf in framing
words for them 5 being affurcd, that
He beft (hall paint them who can feel them moft ^.
The true poet, therefore, muft not only ftudy
nature, and know the reality of things; but muft
alfo poflefs fancy, to invent additional decora-
tions ; judgment, to diredt him in the choice of
fuch as accord with verifimilitude ; and fenfibility,
to enter with ardent emotions into every part of
his fubjed, fo as to transfufe into his work a pa-
thos and energy fufficient to raife correfponding
emotions in the reader.
« The hiftorian and the poet," fays Ariftotle,
*' diflfcr in this, that the former exhibits things
" as they are, the latter as they might be f :" —
I fuppofe he means, in that - ftate of perfedlion
which is confiftent with probability, and in which^
* PoprtEloifa, verf. 366. f Postic. fea. 9.
E 3 for
54. ONJ?OETRY
fojr the feke. of our own gratification, we wifli to
fincj them. If the poet, after, all tijc liberties he
is allowed to take with the truth, can produce?
nothing more exquifite than is commonly to be
met with in hiftory, his reader will be difappoint-
cd and diflatisfied. Poetical reprefentatioos muft
therefore be framed after a pattern of the higheft
probable perfedion that the genius of tb^ worH
will admit: — external naturae muO: in them be
piore pifturefque than in reality ; aAion mor^
animated; fcqtinients more exprcfliye of the feel-
ings and charader, and more fuitable to the cir-
cumftances of the fpeaker; perfon^ges better
accomplifiie4 in thofe qualities that raife admU
^■ation, pity, terror, and other ardent emotions j
and events, more cpmpaft, mpre clearly con-
neftcd with cavifes and confequences, arid ua-*
folded in an order more flattering to the fancy,
and more interefting to the paflions. But where,
it may be faid, is this pattern of perfeAion to be
found? Nol in real nature; othervvife hiftory,
which delineates real nature, would alfo delineate
this pattern of perfeftion. It is to be found only
in the mind of the poet ; and it is imaginaliorf,
regulated by knowledge, that enables hjm tq
form it.
In the beginning of life, and while experience
is confined to a fmall circle, we admire every
thing, and are pleafed with vpry moderate excel-
lence. A peafant thinks the hall of his landlord
|:he fineft Apartment in the univerfe, liftens with
fap|:gre to the fl^rojling JDaim-fxnger^ and woq-
4 N P M U S I a 55
4ers at the rude wooden cuts that adorn his ruder
cocnpofitions, A child looks upon his native vil^
lage as a town ; upon the brook that runs by, as a
river; and upon the meadows and hills in the
neighbourhood, as the moft fpacious and beautiful
that can be. But when, after long abfence, he re-
turns in his declining years, to vifit, once before
he die, the dear fpot that gave him birth, and thofe
fcenes whereof *he remembers rather the original
fhanns than the exaft proportions, how is he diC*
appointed to find every thing fo debafed, and fo
diminifhed ! The hills ieem to have funk into the
ground, the brook to be dried up, and the. village
to be forfaken of its people ; the parilh-church^
ftripp^d of all its fancied magnificence, is become
I0W9 gloomy, and narrow, and the fields are now
only the miniature of what they were. Had he
never left this fpot, his notions might have re-
mained the fame as at firit ; and had he travelled
but a little way from it, they would not perhaps
have received any material enlargement. It feems
then to be from obfcrvation of many things of the
fame or fimilar kinds, that we acquire the talent of
forming ideas more perfed than the real objeAs
that lie immediately around us : and thefe ideas
we may improve gradually more and more, ac-
cording to the vivacity of our mind, and extent of
<>ur es^perience, till at hQ: we come to raife them
to a degree of perfeftion fuperior to any thing to
J>e found in real life* There cannot, fure, be any
myftery in this doftrine ; for we think and fpeak
%Q the fame purpofe every day. Thus nothing is
E 4 niore
S6 ONPOETRY
more common than to fay, that fuch an artift ex-
cels all we have eyer known in his profeflion, and
yet that we can ftill conceive a fupcrior perform-
ance. A moralift, by bringing together into one
view the feparate virtues of many perfons, is ena-
bled to lay down a fyftem of duty more perfcfl:
than any he has ever feen exemplified in human
condudt. Whatever be the emotion the poet in-
tends to raife in his reader, whether admiration or
terror, joy or forrow 5 and whatever be the objeft
he would exhibit, whether Venus or Tifiphone,
Achilles or Therfites, a palace or a pile of ruins, a
dance or a battle ; he generally copies an idea of
his own imagination ; confidering each quality as it
is foqnd to exift in feveral individuals of a fpecies,
and thence forming an aiTemblage more or lefs per«
fe£i: in its kind, according to the purpofe to which
he means to apply it.
Hence it would appear, that the ideas of Poetry
are rather general than fingular ; rather coUedted
from the examination of a fpecies or clafs of things,
than copied from an individual. And this, ac*-
cording to Ariftotle, is in fad the cafe, at leaft for
the mod part ; whence that critic determines, that
Poetry is fomething more exquifite and more phi-
lofophical than hiftory *. The hiilorian may de-
fcribe Bucephalus, but the poet delineates a war«
horfe ; the former muil have feen the animal he
fpeaks of, or received authentic information con-
fcrning it, if he mean to defcribe it hiftorically j
* Pocric. fca. 9.
AN D M U S I C. 57
for the latter it is enough that he has feen feveral
animals of that fort. The former tells us, what
Alcibiades aftually did and faid ; the latter, what
fuch a ipecies of human charader as that which
bears the name of Achilles would probably do or
fay in certain given qircumftances.
It is indeed true, that the poet may, and often
does, copy after individual objedls. ^ Homer, no
doubt, took, his characters from the life; or at
leaft, in forming them, was careful to follow tra«<
dition as far as the nature of his plan would allow«
But he probably took the freedom to add or
heighten fome qualities, and take away others ; to
make Achilles, for example, ftronger, perhaps,
and more impetuous, and more eminent for filial
affe&ion, and Heftor more patriotic and more atni-r
ble, than he really was. If he had not done this,
or fomething like it, his work would have been ra-
ther a hiftory than a poem ; would have exhibited
men and things as they were, and not as they might
have been ; and Achilles and Hedtor would have
been the names of individual and real heroes;
whereas, according to Ariftotle, they are rather to
be confidered as two diftinA modifications or fpe«
cies of the heroic charadker. — Shakefpeare's ac-
count of the clifi^s of Dover comes fo near the
truth, that we cannot doubt of its having been
written by one who had feen them : But he who
takes it for an exadt hiftorical defcription, will be
furprifed when he comes to the place, and finds
thofe cliffs not half fo lofty as the poet had made
him believe. An hiftorian would be to blame for
fuch
58 ONPOETRY
fuch ^mpWRcaiion ; becauie» being to defcribe an
ifidi vidua] precipice, he ought to tell us juft what
it is ; which if he did, the defcription would fuit
that place, and perhaps no other in the whole
world. But the poet means only to give an idea
of what fuch a precipice may be; and therefore
his defcription may be equally applicable to many
fuch chalky precipices on the fea-(hore.
This method of copying after general ideas
formed by the artift from obfervation of many in-
dividuals, diftinguiflies the Italian, and all the fu-
blime paintj^rs, from the Dutch, and their imita-
tors. Thcfe give us bare nature, with the imper-
fections and peculiarities of individual things or
perfons •, but thofe give nature improved as far as
probability and the defign of the piece will admit.
Teniers and Hogarth draw faces, and figures, and
dreifes, from real life, and prefent manners ; and
therefore their pieces muft in fome degree lofe the
effcd, and become aukward, when the prefent
falhions become obfoletc. — Raphael and Reynolds
take their models from general nature ; avoiding,
as far as pofiible (ac leaft in all their great per*
formances), thofe peculiarities that derive their
beauty from mere falhion 5 and therefore their
works muft give pleafure, and appear elegant, a$
long as men are capable of forming gen^rgl ideas,
and of judging from tbepi. The laft-mentiqned
incompar4ble artift is particularly ok^fierv^ni of
children, whofe looks and attitude9, bping le&
imder the control of art and local manners, are
tpore pbaradteriftical of the ipecies, than thofe of
ANDMUSIC. 59
men and women. This field of obfervation has
fupplied hitn with many fine figures, particularly
that moil exquifite one of Comedy, (truggling for
and winning (for who could refill her!) the afFcc-
lions of Garrick :— a figure which could never have
occurred to the imagination of a painter who had
confined his views to grown perfons looking and
moving in all the formality of polite life: — ^a
figure which in all ages and countries would be pro-
nounced natural and engaging; — whereas thofe
human forms that we fee every day bowing, and
courtefying, and (Irutting, and turning out their
toes, fecundum artem^ and drefied in ruffles, and
wigs, and flounces, and hoop-petticoats, and fuller
(rimmed fuits, would appear elegant no funher
than the prefent fafhions are propagated, and no
longer thap they remain unaltered.
I have heard it difputed, whether a portrait
ought to be habited according to the fafhion of th^
times, or in one of thofe drefles which, on ac*
count of their elegance, or having been long in
ufc, are affcfted by great painters, and therefore
called pidlurefque. The queflion may be deter-
mined upon the principles here laid down. If you
wilh to have a portrait of your friend, that ihall
always be elegant, and never aukward, chufe a
pidurefquc drefs. But if you* mean to prcfervc
the remembrance of a particular fuit of cloaths,
without minding the ridiculous figure which your
friend will probably cut in it a hundred years
lifnce, you may array hi& pidlure according to th^
flOliop. The biftory of dr^fies may be worth pre-
f?rvin§ :
€o O N P O E T R Y
ferving : but who would have his image fct up, for
the purpofe of hanging a coat or periwig upon it,
to gratify the curiofity of antiquarian tailors or
wigmakers ?
There is, in the progrefs of human fociety, as
well as of human life, a period to which it is of
great importance for the higher order of poets to
iattend, and from which they will do well to take
their charafters, and manners, and the era of their
events 5 I mean, that wherein men are raifed above
favage life, and confidcrably improved by arts,
government, and coriverfation 5 but not advanced
fo high in the afcent towards politenefs, as to have .
acquired a habit of difguifing their thoughts and
paffions, . and of reducing their behaviour to the
uniformity of the mode. Such. was the period
which Homer had the good fortune (as a poet) to
live in, and to celebrate. This is the period at
which the manners of men are moft pifturcfque,
and their adventures moft romantic. This is the
period when the appetites, unperverted by luxury,
the powers unenervated by effeminacy, and the
thoughts difengaged from artificial reftraint, will,
in perfons of fimilar difpofitions and circumftances,
operate in nearly the fame way ; and when, confc-
quencly, the charafters of particular men will ap*
proach to the nature of poetical or general ideas,
and, if well imitated, give pkafure to the whole,
or at leaft to a great majority of mankind. But a
charader tinfturcd with the fafhions of polite life
would not be fo generally interefting. Like a hu*
man figure adjufted by a modern danGing-mafter,
and
A N D M U S I C. tfi
and dreffcd by a modern tailor, it may have a good
effeft in fatire, comedy, or farce; but if intro-
duced into the higher poetry, it would be admired
by thofe only who had . learned to admire nothing
but prefent faihions, and by them no longer than
the prefent faihions lafted ; and to all the reft of
.the world would appear awkward, unafFeding, and
perhaps ridiculous. But Achilles and Sarpedon,
Diomede and Hcftor, Neftor and Ulyflcs, as
, drawn by Homer, muft in all ages, independently
on faihion, command the attention and admiration
of mankind. Thefe have the qualities that arc
univerfally known to belong to human nature;
whereas the modern fine gentleman is diftinguifli-
.ed by qualities that belong only to a particular
age, focicty, and corner of the world. I fpeak not
of moral or intelledual virtues, which are objcfts
of admiration to every age ; but of thofe outward
accomplilhments, and that particular temperature
of the paflions, which form the mod perceptible
part of a human charafber. — As, therefore, the
politician, in difcuffing the rights of mankind, muft
often allude to an imaginary ftate of nature ; fo the
.poet who intends to raife admiration, pity, terror,
and other important emotions, in the generality of
mankind, efpecially in thofe readers whofe minds
are moft improved, -muft take his pidlures of life
•and manners, rather from the heroic period we
now fpeak of, than from the ages of refinement i
and muft therefore (to repeat the maxim of Arif-
totle) *' exhibit things, not as they are, but as
« they might be."
If,
64 O N P O E T R t
If, theft, there be any nations who enl^rtain fuch
a partiality in fijvour of one fyftem of artificirf
manners, that they cannot endure any other fyftem,
either artificial or natural ; may we not fairly con-
clude, that in thofe nations Epic poetry will not
flourifli ? How far this may account for any pe-
culiarities in the tafte and literature of a neigh-
botiring nation*, is fubmitted to the reader.
Were a man fo perverted by nature, or by habit,
as to think no ftate of the hUman body graceful,
but what depends on lace and fringe, powder and
pomatum, buckram and whalebone, I (hould not
wonder, if he beheld with diffatisfaftion the naked
majefty of the Apollo Belvidere, or the flowing
fimplicity of robe that arrays a Cicero or Flora^
But if one of his favourite figures were to be car-
ried about the world in company with thefe ftatues,
I. believe the general voice of mankind would not
ratify his judgment. Homer's fimple manners
may difguft a Terraffon, or a Cbeftcrfield •, but
will always pleafe the univerfal tafte, becaufe they
are more pidurefque in themfelves, tb^an any form
of artificial manners can be, and more fuitable ta
thofe ideas of human life which are moft familiar
to the human mind*
♦ Je me fouviens, que lorfque je confultai, fur ma Henriade^
fea M. de Malezieax, homme qui joignait unde grande rmagi<'
nation a une litterature immenfe, il me dit : Vou$ enterprenez
Ha Ottvrage qui n'eft pas fait poor notre nation ; lesFrancai»
k'ont pas la tetb EPiquE. Voltoiri* EJfai /itr la poefie
efifUif chaf. g.
Let
A N D M U S I C. €i
Let it not be thought, that I have any partia*
lity to the tenets of thofe philofophers who re-
cotrtff^nd the nranners of the heroic period, or
even of the favage ft ate, as better in a ihorafl
view, than thofe of our own time ; or that 1 tnfeari
any reflection upon the virtue or good -fenfe of thfe
age, when I fpeak difrefpeflfuHy of fofne fat-
fhiionable articles of external decoratiori. Gut
drefs and attitudes are not perhaps fo graceful
as they might be : but th&t is not our fault, fdt
it depends On caufes which are not in our power :
—that affefts not the virtue of any good m^n,
and no degree of outward elegance ^ill ever re-
forfn the heart of a bad one: and that is no
more a proof of our i\\ tafte, than the rough-
Defs of our language, or the coldneis of our clr*
mate. As a moralift, one would eftimate the
things of this life by their influence on the next;,
but I here fpeak as a critic^ and judge of things
according to their tffe6ks in the fine arts. Poetry,
as an inftrument of pleafure, gives the prefe-
rcncfe to thofe things that have moft variety, and
operate moft powerfully on the pafljons ^ and, a&
ian arc, th4t conveys inftrudion rather by ex-
ample than by precept, muft exhibit evil as well
as good, and vitious as t^ell as virtuous charac-
ters. That favages> dttd beroes lifce thofe of
Homer, may deep founder •, and eat and ^rbfc:^
attd perhaps fight, with Ja keener apjietite, th^n
MiOdferh Edrapfefeils; thUt they may excd us iri
ftrength, fwifrnefs, and many forts of manual
dexterity ; in a word, that they may be fner
animah
64 . O N P O E T R Y
.animals than we ^ and further, that being fubjeft
to fewer reftraints both from virtue and from de-
licacy, they may difplay a more animated pifbure
of the undifguifed energies of the human foul, I
am very willing to allow: but I hold, that the
manners of poli(hed life are beyond comparifon
more favourable to that benevolence, piety, and
felf-government, which are the glory of the Chri-
ilian chara<Ster, and the higheft pcrfeftion of our
nature, as rational and immortal beings. ' The
former (late of mankind I would therefore pre-
fer as the beft fubjefl of Epic and Tragic Poe-
try : but for fupplying the means of real happi-
nefs here, and of eternal felicity hereafter, every
man of refleftion, unlefs blinded by hypothelis, or
by prejudice, muft give the preference to the
latter.
CHAP. IV.
^hefubjeli continued. Of Poetical Cbara£lers.
HORACE feems to think, that a competent
knowledge of moral philofophy will fit an
author for aligning the fuitable qualities and du*
ties to each poetical perfonage*. The. maxim
may be true, as far as mere morality is the aim of
the poet ', but cannot be underftood to refer to the
delineation of poetical charadters in general : for a
• Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 309. — 316.
thorough
.A;N D MUSIC. 6^
thorough acquaintance with all the moral philofp-*
phy ip the worW >yould not have enabled Blacjc-
more to paint fuch a.perfonage as Homer's A chillis,
Shakefpeare's Othello, or the Satan of Paradife
Loft. To,, a competency of moral fcience, thpre
muft be added an extenfiv.e' knowledge of mankind,
^ warm, and elevated imagination, and the greateft
fenfibility of heart, before a gcnias can be form-
ed equal to fo-difjicult a taik. Horace is indeed fo
fenfible of the danger of introducing a new charac-
ter in poetry, that he even difcouragcs the attempt,"
and advifes the poet rather to take his perfons from
the ancient authors, or from tradition *,
To conceive the idea of a good man, and to in-
vent and fnpport a great poetical charafter, are
two very different things, however they may feem
to have been co-founded by fome writers. The
firft is cafy to any perfon fufficiently inftrucled in
the duties of life j the laft is perhaps of all the ef-
forts of human genius the mod difficult j fo very
difficult, that, though attempted by many. Homer,
Shakefpeare, and Milton, are almoft the only au^
thors who have fucceeded in it. But charaders of
perfeft virtue are not the molt proper for poetry.
It feems to be agreed, that the Deity fhould not be
introduced in the machinery of a poetical f^ble.
To afcribc to him words and actions of our own
invention, is in my judgment very unbecoming j
nor can a poetical dcfcription, that is known to be,
and mufl of neceffity be, infinitely inadequate, ever
' ' • Hor, Ar. Poet. verf. 119, — 130*
F. htUfy
66 ONPOETRY
facisfy the human mind *. Poetry, according to
the bed: critics, is an imitation of human aftion^
and therefore poetical charafters, though elevated^
fhould ftill partake of the pafiions and frailties of
humanity. If it were not for the vices of fome
principal perfonages, the Iliad would not be either
fo interefting or fo moral :-^the mofl: moving and
moft eventful parts of the ^neid are thofe that
defcribe the efieds of unlawful paffionf: — the
moft
* It is fomewhat amofing to obferve, what diflferent ideas
obr poets have entertained of the manner of fpeaking that may
be moll fuiuble to the Divine Natave. Milton afcribes to him
that mode of reafoning which in his own age was thonght to
be the moft facred and moft important* Cowley^ in his Dm-
bidets, introduces the Deity fpeaking in the Alexandrine mea-
fare ; from an opinion, no doubt, that a line of fix feet has
more dignity than- one of five. Brown, on the eontrary, in
Thi Cure e/ Saui, fuppofes him to fpeak in rhyming veries
of three fyllables* And the author of Pri'^JiiMCi, m P§im,
in Dcyifley's Colle^ion, thinks it more congruous, that the
Supreme Being fliould ** iet wide the fate of things,'' In a
fpecch ** majeftically long, repugnant to all princes cuftoms
•• here,"&c.
t The deftru£lion of Troy, the>/ar with Tnmns, and the
defpair and deatti of Dido, are here alluded to. That the firft
was owing to criminal pafiiOD, is well known. On the fate of
Turnus and Dido, I beg leave to offer a few remarks,
1. Turnus is a brave and gallant young prince: but his
difobedicnce to the will of Jupiter, as repeatedly declared by
orades and prodigies whereof he could not mifunderftand the
meaning (JEueid, vii. v#^ 104. & 596), in perfifting to
urge his claim to Lavinia, whom Fate had deftined to be the
wife of his rival, engages him in the war which concludes
with his death. We pity his fall, of which, however, himfelf,
with hu dying bireaih, acknowledges die juftice. Had he
been
A N D M a S I C. 57
moft inftru£ttve tragedy in the world, I mean Mac-
beth, is founded in crimes of dreadful enormity :
and
been lefs amiable, we (hould have been lefs interefled in hit
iate ; had he been more virtuous, the poet muft either havf
omitted the Italian war altogether, or brought it about b^
means lefs probable perhaps, and lefs honourable to the Tro-
jans, and confequently to Rome. Piety to the gods is every
where recommended by Virgil as the lirft and greateft human
virtue, to which all other duties and all other affedtions are to
give place, when they happen to be inconfiftent.
2« The loves of Eneas and Dido are criminal on both fides*
By connecting htmfelf with this unfortunate queen, with whom
he knew that he could not, without difobedience to the will
of Heaven, remain, he is guilty^ not only of impiety, but alfo
of a temporary negled of duty to his people as their leader
and foveretgn : and (he, in obtruding berfelf upon the Trojan
priace, violates the moft folemn vows, and ads a part of which
ihe could not be ignorant, that it was incompatible with his
deftiny; for he had told her from the firfi, that he wasap*
pointed by Fate to fettle his Trojans in Italy, and to marry a
wife of that country. JEntii. ii. 78 1 •— ^— 'Dido has many great
and many amiable qualities : yet the Poet blends in her cha-
rader fome harfii ingredienU; with a view, no doubt, partly
to reconcile us in ibme mcafure to her fad cataftrophe, but
chiefly to make her appear in the eyes of his countrymen an
adequate reprefentative of that people, who had fb loog been
the objed of their jealoufy and hatred. Her paifion for Eneas
is diOrefpedlful. to the gods, injurious to that prince and his
feHowers, and indecent in itfelf : (he is (bmewhat libertine in
her religious principles ; a (hocking circui^ftance in a lady,
and which to our pious poet mull have been peculiarly ofitn«
five : and her behaviour, when Eneas is going to leave her,
dioagh fnttable to a haughty princefs under the power of a paf«
fion more violent than delicate, is not at all what we (hould
expeft from that foftnefs of nature, and gentlenefs of affedlion,
wtdiont which no woman can be truly amiable. If we except
her wi(b for a young Eneas, there is hardly one fentiment of
F 2 feminine
68 P N POET R Y
and if Milton had not taken into his plan the fall
of our firft parents, as well as their ftate of inno-
cence,
feminine tendernefs, in all her threats, complaints,' and ex-
poftulaiionst ^fide, felf-cdndemnation, and revenge, engrofs
her whole foul, and exiinguifh every other thought ; and (he
concludes her life, by imprecating, with cool, but dreadful
folemnity, perdition upon the fugitive Trojan, and mifery up*
on his people, and their dependents, for ever.
Virgil has been blamed for fome things in the condudl of
this part of the poem;.! know not with what good reafon.
He was not obliged to give moral perfe£\ion to his charaders.
That of Eneas, if it had been lefs perfe6t, might perhaps have
made the poem more animated ; but then it would not have
fuited the poet's main defign of reconciling the Romans to the
perfon and government of Auguftus, of whom Eneas is to be
confidered as the poetical type. This hero does indeed, in at-
taching himfelf to Dido, ad inconfiilently with his pious and
patriotic character; but his fault is human, and not without
circumflances of alleviation : and we muft not eHimate the mo-
rality of an adlion by its confequences, except where they
might have been forefeen. But he is no fooner reprimanded
by Mercury for his tranfgreflion, than he returns to his duty,
notwithilanding his liking to the country, and his love for the
lady, which now feems to be more delicate, than hers for
him. But is not Dido's fault alfo human, and attended alfo
with alleviating circumllances ? — and if fo, is not her puniih-
ment greater than her crime ? — Granting all this, it will not
follow,- that Virgil is to blame. Poetry, if ftridl retributive ju-
ftice were always to be expeftcd in it, would not be an imi-
tation of human life ; and, as all its great events would be an*
ticipated, and cxa^ly fuch a^ we wi(h for, could melt or fur-
prife us no longer. In fad, unlawful love has, in every age, -
been attended with worfe confequences to the weaker, than to.
the dronger fex ; not becaufe it is lefs unlawful in the one than.
in the other ; but that the former mciy be guarded by the
firongcH nioiives of intcreft, as well as of bsnour and duty ;
and
A N D M U S I C. 69
Ccnce, his divine poem muft have wanted much of
its pathos, and could not have been (what it now
is)
and the latter reflrained by every principle, not only of con-
fcience, but alfo cF generoiity and compafTion. Our poet
a^ffigns to Dido, in the ihades below, one of the lead uncom •
fbrtable fitaations in the regicn of mourning \ from whence,
according 10 his fyllem (fee the EJ/'ay m Truths part. 3. chap.
2.) after undergoing the neceflary pains of purification, fhe
was to pafs into Elyfium, and enjoy the pleafures of that hap-
py place for a thoufand years ; and afterwards to be (ent back
to earth to animate another body, and thus have another op--
portunity of hfing to virtue and happinefs by a fuitable be-
haviour.
Thofe incidents, and thofe only, are blameable in a poem,
which either hurt the main defign, or are in themfelves un-
natural, infipid, or immoral. The epifode of Dido, as Vir-
gil has given it, is perfectly confonant with his main defign ;
for it fets his hero in a new light, and raises our idea of his
perfonal accomplifliments ; and muft have been particularly
interefting to the Romans, as it accounts for their jealoufy of
Carthage, one of the mofl important events in all their hiilory.
Unnatural or infipid this epifode cannot be called ; for it is
without doubt the fineft piece of poetry in the world : the
whole defcription of Dido's love, in every period of its pro-
grefs, from its commencement to its lamentable conclufionj is
fttblime, and harmonious, natural, pathetic, and pi^urefque,
to a degree which was never equalled, and never can be fur-
pafTed, And who will objeft to the morality of that fable,
which recommends piety and patriotifm as the moft indifpen-
fable duties of a fovereign ; and paints, in the moft terrifying
colours, the fatal efFtfts of female imprudence, of oppofition
to the will of Heaven, of the violation of folemn vows, and
the gratification of criminal defires?
As to the part that Venus and Juno take in this affair,
againil which I have heard fome people exclaim ; — it is to be
confidered as a poetical figure, of fufiicient probability in the
F 3 days
70
ON POETRY
is) fuch a treafure of important knowledg^i zi fid
other uninfpired writer ever comprehended in fa
fmall a compafs. — ^Virtue, like truth, is uniform
and unchangeable. We may anticipate the part a
good man will a£t in any given circumftances ^ and
therefore the events that depend on fuch a man
muft be lefs furprifing than thofe that proceed from
paffion ; the viciffitudes wherec^ it is ifrequently
impoflible to fbrefee. From the violent temper of
Achilles, in the Iliad, fpring many great incidents ;
which could not have taken place, if he had been
calm and prudent like UlyiTes, or pious and pa-
triotic like Eneas : — his rejeAion of Agamemnon's
offers, in the ninth book, arifes from the violence
of his refentment ;— -his yielding to the requeft of
Patroclus, in the fixteenth, from the violence of
his friendfhip (if I may fo fpeak) countera^fting his
refentment ; and bis reftoring to Priam the de^
body of Hcftor, in the twenty-fourth, from the
violence of his afiedtion to his own aged father,
and his regard to the command of Jupiter, coun-
terading, in fome meafure, both his forrow for
his friend, and his thirft of vengeance. — Befides^
except where there is fome degree of vice, it pains
us too exquifitely to fee misfortune ; and therefore
Poetry would ccafe to have a pleafurable influence
days of Virgil ; an<l ^nly figniiiesy that Dido was enfnared
in this unhappy amour^ firft by her love, and then by her
ambition* See her conference with her iiiier in the beginning
of the fourth book*— —The reader who loves Virgil as much
as 1 wifli him to do, will not be offended at the length of this
note.
over
A N D M U S I C. 71
over our tender paflions, if it were to exhibit vir-
tuous charafters only. And as, in life, evil is ne*
ceflary to our moral probation, and the poffibility
of error to our intelleftuai improvement j fo bad
or mixed charafters are ufeful in poetry, to give to
the good fuch opposition as puts them upon dif«
playing and exercifing their virtue.
All thofc perfpnages, however, in whofe fortune
the poet means that we Ihould be interefted, muft
have agreeable and admirable qualities to recom-
mend them to our regard. And perhaps the great-
eft difficulty in the art lies in fuitably blending
tbofe faults, which the poet finds it expedient to
give to any particular hero, with fuch moraU in-
telledual, or corporeal accomplifhments, as may
engage our efteem, pity, or admiration, without
weakening our hatred of vice, or love of virtue.
In moft of our novels, and in many of our plays,
it happens unluckily, that the hero of the piece is
fo captivating, as to incline us to be indulgent to
every part of his character, the bad as well as the
good. But a great matter knows how to give the
proper dire&ion to human fenfibility, and, without
any perverfion of our faculties, or any confufion
of right and wrong, to make the fame perfon the
obje£t of very different emotions, of pity and ha-
tred, of admiration and horror. Who does not
efteem and admire Macbeth, for his courage and
generofiiyi who does not pity him when bcfet
with all the terrors of a pregnant imagination, fu-
perftitious temper, and a)vakcned confcience?
who docs not abhor him as a monfter of cruelty,
F 4 treachery.
)a 0 N P 0 fi t R Y"
treachery, and ingratitude ? His good qualitle^j
by drawing us near to him, make us, as it were,
eye-witnefies of his crime, and gWt us a fellow-
feeling of his remorfe 5 arid, therefore, his exam-
ple muft have a powerful ejffeft in cheriftiing oui*
love of virtue, and fortifying our minds againft
Criminal impreflions : Whereas, had he wanted
thofe good qualities, we ftiould have kept aloof
from his concerns, 01* viewed them with a fuperfi-
cial attention j in which cafe his example would
have had little more weight, than that of the rob-
ber, of whom we know nothing, but that he was
tried, condemned, and executed. — Satan, in Pa-
radife LOft, is a charafter drawn and fupported
with the moft confummate judgment. The old
furies and demons, Hecate, Tifiphonc, Aledto,
Megera, are objefts of unmixed and unmitigated
abhorrence; Tityus, Enceladus, and their bre-
thren, are remarkable for nothing but impiety, de-
formity, and vaftnefs of fize; Pluto is, at beft, an
infipld perfonage j Mars, a hairbrained rufHan 5
Taffo's infernal tyrant, an ugly and overgrown
monfter ; But in the Miltonic Satan, we are forced
to admire the majefty of the ruined archangel, at
the fame time that we deteft the unconquerable de-
pravity of the fiend. But, of all poetical charac-
ters, the Achilles of Homer * feems to me the moft
exquifite
* I fay, the Achilles of Homer* Latter authors have de*
graded the charader of this hero, by fuppofing every part of
his body invulnerable except the heel, I know not how often
t have heard this urged as one of Homer's abfurdi:ies ; and
indeed
A N D M U S 1 C. 73
exquifite in the invention, and the mod highly
I finiftied. The utility of this charafter in a moral
I view is obvious ; for it may be Confidered as the
I fource of all* the morality of the Iliad. Had not
the generous and violent temper of Achilles deter-
mined him to patronifethe augur Calchas in defi-
ance of Agamemnon, and afterwards, on being
affronted by that vindictive commander, to aban*
don for a time th? common caufe of Greece j the
fatal efFefts of diffenfion among confederates, and
of capricious and tyrannical behaviour in a fove-
reign, would not have been the leading moral of
Homer's poetry-, nor could Hedlor, Sarpedon,
Eneas, Ulyffes, and the other amiable heroes,
have been brought forward to fignalize their vir-
tues, and recommend themfclves to the efteem and
imitation of mankind.
They who form their judgment of Achilles
from the imperfeft (ketch given of him by Horace
in the Art of Poetry * ; and confider him only as a
hateful compofition, of anger, rcvertge, fierccnefs,
obflinacy, and pride, can never enter into the views
of Homer, nor be fuitably affefted with his narra-
tion. All thefe vices are no doubt, in fome de-
gree, combined in Achilles ; but they are temper-
indeed the whole Iliad is one continued abfurdity, on this
foppofition. But Homer all along makes his hero equaPy
liable to wounds and death with other men. Nay, to prevent
all miftakes in regard to this matter, he a<^ually wounds him
in the right arm, by the lance of Afteropaeus, in the baiile
near the river Scamandcr* See 11. xxi, vtti. i6i. — i68fc
* ytx{. 121. 122.
cd
n
ON POETRY
ed with qualities of a different fort) which render
him a moft interefting charader, and of courie
make the Iliad a moft interefting poem* Every
reader abhors the faults of this hero ; and yet,^ to
an attentive reader of Homer, this hero muft be
the objedt of efteem, admiration, and pity i for
he has many good as well as bad affedions, and is
equally violent in all : Nor is he pollefled of a
fingle vice or virtue, which the wonderful art of
the poet has not made fubfervient to the defign of
the poem, and to the progrefs and cataftrophe of
the aftion ; fo that the hero of the Iliad, confidered
as a poetical perfonage, is juft what he fhould be,
neither greater nor lefs, neither worfe nor better.
He is every where diftinguiihed by ^n abhorrence
of oppreflion, by a liberal and elevated mind, by
a paffion for glory, and by a love of truth, free-
dom, and fincerity. He is for the moft part at^
tentive to the duties of religion ; and, except to
thofe who have injured -him, courteous and kind :
He is affedionate to his tutor Phenbc ; and not on-
ly pities the misfortunes of his enemy Priam, but
in the moft foothing manner adminifters to him the
bcft confolation that poor Homer*s theology could
fumifh. Though no admirer of the caufe in
which his evil deftiny compels him to engage, he
is warmly attached to his native land ; and, ardent
as he is in vengeance, he is equally fo in love to
his aged father Peleu3, and to his friend Patroclus.
He is not luxurious like Paris, nor clownilh like
Ajax; his accompliihments are princely, and his,
amufements worthy of a hero. Add to this, as an
apology
AND MUSIC. >5
apology for the vehemence of his anger, that the
affront he had received was (according to the
tnanners of that age) of the moft atrocious nature;
and not only unprovoked, but fuch as, on the
part of Agamemnon, betrayed a brutal infenfibi-
lity to merit, as well as a proud, felfiih, ungratcr
fol, and tyrannical difpofitioo. And though he
is often inexcufeably furious ; yet it is but juftice
tB remark, that he was not naturally more cruel
than other wmriors of that age * ; and that his
wjideft outrages were fuch as in thofe rude times
might be expeSed from a violent man of invinci-
ble ftrei^h and vabur, when exafperated by in-
jury, and frantic with forrow.— -Our hero's claim
to the admiration of mankind is indifputable.
Every part of his chara&er is fublime and aftonifh*
ing. In his perfon, he is the ftrongeft, the fwiftefl:,
and mod beautiful of men: — This laft circum-
ftance, however, occurs not to his own obferva-
tion» being too trivial to attradt the notice of fo
great a mind. The Fates had put it in his power,
either to return home before the end of the war, or
to remain at Troy :— If he chofe the former, he
would enjoy tranquillity and happinefs in his own
country to a good old age 5 if the latter, he muft
pcrifli in the bloom of youth:— His afFcAion to
his father and native country, and his hatred to
• Sec Iliad xxi. 100. and xxiv. 485. — 673. In the firft
ofthcfe paiTages, Achilles himfelf declares^ that before Patro-
cbi was flakiy he often fpared the lives of his enemies, and
took pleaiiire in doing k. It is (Irange that this (hould be left
pot in Pope's Tranflation.
Agamemnon,
76 ONPOETRY
Agamemnon, ftrongly urge him to the firft; but
a defire lo avenge the death of his friend deter-
riiines him to accept the laft, with all its confe-
quenccs. This at once difplays the greatnefs of
his fortitude, the warmth of his friendfliip, and
the violence of his fanguinary paffions : And it is
this that fo often and fo powerfully rccx)mmends
him to the pity, as well as admiration, of the at-
tentive reader* But the magnanimity of this hero
is fupcrior, not only to the fear of death, but alfo
to prodigies, and thofe too of the moft tremendous
import. I allude to the fpeech of his horfe Xan-
thus, in the end of the nineteenth book, and to his
behaviour on that occafion ; and I (ball take the li-
berty to expatiate a little upon that incipient, with
a view to vindicate Homer, as well as to illuftrate
the charadler of Achilles.
The incident is marvellous, no doubt, and h^s
been generally condemned even by the admirers of
Homer •, yet to me, who am no believer in the in-
fallibility of the great poet, fcems not only allow- .
able, but ufeful and important. That this miracle
has probability enough to warrant its admiffion into
Homer's poetry, is fully proved by Madame Da-
cier. It is the effed of Juno's power ^ which if
we admit in other parts of the poem, we ought
not to rejedt in this : and in the poetical hiftory of
Greece, and even in the civil hiftory of Rome,
there are fimilar fables, which were once in no
fmall degree of credit. But neither M. Dacier,
nor any other of the commentaprs (fo far as I
know), has taken notice of the propriety of intro-
ducing
A N D M U S I g. 77
ducing it in this place, nor of its utility in raifmg
our idea of the hero. — Patroclus was now (lain ;
and Achilles, forgetting the injury he had received
from Agamemnon, and frantic with revenge and
forrow, was rufhing to the battle, to fatiate his
fury upon He6lor and the Trojans. This was the
critical moment on which his future deftiny de-
pended. It was ftill in his power to retire, and go
home in peace to his beloved father and native
land, with the certain profped: of a long and hap-
py, though inglorious, life : If he went forward to
the battle, he might avenge his friend's death upon
the enemy, but his own muft inevitably happen
foon after. This was the decree of Fate concern-
ing him, as he himfelf yery well "knew. But it
would not be wonderful,- if fuch an impetuous
fpirit (hould forget all this, during the prefent pa-
roxyfm of his grief and rage. His horfe, there-
fore, miraculoufly gifted by Juno for that purpofe,
after exprefiing, in dumb ihow, the dc^epeft con-
cern for his lord, opens his mouth, and in human
fpeech announces his approaching fate. The fear
of death, and the fear of .prodigies, are different
things ; and a brave man, though proof againft
the one, may yet be overcome by the other. " I
** have known. a foldier (fays Addifon) that has
*' entered a breach, affrighted at his own fliadow j
«^ and look pale upon a little fcratching at his
" door, who. the day before had marched up
l^ againft a battery of cannon *.'* But Achilles,
• * Spectator, Number u,
'of
78 ON POETRY
of whom wc already knew that he feared nothing
human, now fliows, what wc had not as yet been
informed of, and what muft therefore heighten our
idea of his fortitude, that he is not to be terrified
. or moved, by the view of certain deftruftion, or
even by the moft alarming prodigies. I ftiall quote
Pope's tranflation, which in this place is equal, if
not fuperior, to the original.
Then ceas'd for ever, by the Furies tied.
His fateful voice. Th' intrepid chief replied.
With unabated rage : «• So let it be !
Portents and prodigies are loft on me.
I know my fate s«-to die, to fee no more
My much-loved parents, and my native Ihore.
Enough :*— when Heaven ordains, I fink tii night.*^
Now perifli, Troy.*' He faid, and ruih'd to fight.
It is equally a proof of rich invention and
exa£t judgment in Homer, that he mixes fome
good qualities in all his bad chara6ters, and fome
degree of imperfeftion in almoft all his good
ones. — Agamemnon, notwithftanding his pride,
is an able general, and a valiant man, and highly
efteemed as fuch by the greater part of the army.
— Paris, though effeminate, and vain of his drefs
and perfon, is, however, good-natured, patient
of reproof, not deftitute of courage, and emi«
nently ikilled in mulic, and other fine arts.—
Ajax is a huge giant ; /earlefs rather from in*
fenfibility to danger, and confidence in his maffy
arms, than from any nobler principle s boaftful
X and
A N D M U S I C. 79
and rough ; regardlefs of the gods, though not
downright impious*: yet there is in his manner
fomething of franknefs and blunt fincerity, which
entitle him to a (hare in our efteem ; and he is .
ever ready to aflift his countrymen, to whom he
renders good icnrice on many a perilous emer-
gency.—The charafter of Helen, in fpite of her
faults, and of the many calamities whereof fhe
is the guilty caufe. Homer has found means to
recommend to our pity, and almoft to our love ;
and this he does, without feeking to extenuate
the crim^ of Paris, of which the mod refpeAable
peribnages in the poem are made to fpeak with
becoming abhorrence. She is fo full of remorfe,
fo ready on every occafion to condemn her pa(t
conduA, fo afie&ionate to her friends, fo willing
to do juflice to every body's merit, and withal fo
finely accomplifhed, that (he rxtorts our admira*
tion, as well as that of the old fenators of Troyf.
— Menelaus, though fufficiently fenfible of the
injury he had received, is yet a man of modera-
* His nataral bluntnefs appears in that ihort, but famous
addreis, to Jupiter, in the nineteenth bookt when a preterna-
tural darknefs hindered him from feeing either the enemy or
his own people. The prayer feems to be the effc^ rather of
vexation, than of piety or patriotifm. Pope gives a more fo^-
lemn turn to it, than either Homer's words, or the charadler of
the fpeaker, will jullify.
-Lord of earth and air !
O King, O Father, hear my humble prayer, &c.
t See Iliad iii. 156.
tion^
So ON POETRY
tion, clemency, and good-nature, a valiant fol-
dier, and a mod affeftionate brothei:-, .but there
is a da(h of vanity in his compofition, and be
entertains rather too high an opinion, of his owa
abilities ; yet never overlooks or undervalues the
merit of others. — Priam would claip unreferved
cfteem, as well as pity,, if it were not for bis in-«
cxcufeable weaknefs, in gratifying the humour,
and by indulgence a^betting the crimes, of the
moft worthlefs of all his children, to the utter
ruin of his people, family, and kingdom. Ma-
dam Dacier fuppofes, that he had- loft his autho-
rity, and was obliged to fall in with the politics
of the times ; but of this I find no evidence ; on
the contrary, he and his unworthy favourite Pajis
feem to have been the only perfons of diftindion
in Troy, who were averfe to the rcftoring of
Helen. Priam's foible (if it can be called by fo
foft a name), however faulty, is not uncommon,
and has often produced calamity both in private
and public life. The fcripture gives a memo^
rable inftance, in the hiftory of the good old Eli.
— Sarpedon comes nearer a perfeft charader, than
any other of Homer's heroes; but the part he
has. to aft is fhort. It is a charafter, which one
could hardly have expedled in thofe rude times :
A fovereign prince, who confiders himfelf as a
magiftratc fet up by the people for the public
good, and therefore bound in honour and grati-
tude to be himfelf their example, and ftudy to
excel as much in virtue, as in rank and autho-
rity.—Hcftor i$ the favourite of every reader 5
^ |ind
A N D M U S I C. 8i
and with good reafon. To the trueft valour he
joins the mod generous patriotifm. He abomi-
nates the crime of Paris -, but, not being able to
prevent the war, he thinks it his duty to defend
his country, and his father and fovertign, to the
laft. He too, as well as Achilles, forefecs his own
death; which heightens our compalTion, and
raifes our idea of his magnanimity. In all the re-
lations of private life, as a fon, a father, a huf-
band, a brother, he is amiable in the higheft de-
gree ; and he is diftinguiihed among all the heroes
for tenderncfs 6f afFc6lion, gentlenefs of manners,
and a pious regard to the duties of religion. One
circumftance of his charafter, ftrongly cxprcffivc
of a great and delicate mind, we learn from He-
len's lamentation over his dead body. That he was
almoit the only perfon in Troy, who had always
treated her with kindnefs, and never uttered one
reproachful word to give her pain, nor heard others
reproach her without blaming them for it. Some
tendency to pftentation (which however may be
pardonable in a commander in chief), and tempo*
rary fifs of timidity, are the only blemifhes dif-
coverable in this hero; whofe portrait Homer ap-
pears to have drawn with an affedionate and pecu<r
liar attention. And it muft convey a favourable
idea of the good old bard, as well as of human na-
ture, to refleft, that the fame perfon who was lov-
ed and admired three thoufiuid years ago, as a pat-
tern of heroic excellence aAd ww\f virtue, is ftill
an objefl: of admiration and love to the moft en-
lightened nations. Thi^/» one ftrilcing proof,
G ' that,
?2 O N P O E T R Y
that, notwithftahding the cndlefs viciffitude to
which human affairs are liable, the undcrftanding
and moral fentiments of men have continued near-
ly the fame in all ages ; and that the faculties
whereby we diftinguifll truth and virtue are as
really parts of our original nature, and as little
obnoxiousto the caprice of falhion, as our love of
life, our fcnfcs of feeing and hearing, or the appe-
tites of hunger and thirft. Rtftitude of moral
principle, and a fpirit of good-nature and humani-
ty, arc indeed eminently confpicuous in this won-
derful poet J whofe works, in whatever light we
confider them, as a ptdure of paft ages, as a trea-
fure of moral wifdom, as a fpecimen of the power
of human genius, or as an affcfting and inftruftive
difplay of the human mind, are truly ineftimable.
Ey defcribing fo rhany amiable qualities to Hec-
tor, and fome others of the Trojans, the poet in-
terefts us in the fate of that people, notwithftand*
ing our being continually kept in mind, that they
are the injurious party. And by thus blending
good and evil, virtue and frailty, in the compofi-
tion of his charafters, he makes them the more
conformable to the real appearances of human na-
ture, and more ufeful as examples for our improve-
ment: And at the fame time, without hurting
verifimilitude, gives every neceffary embellilhment
to particular parts of his poem, and variety, co-
herence, and animation, to the whole fable. And
it may alfo be obferved, that though fcveral of his
chara6ters are complex, not one of them is made
up of incompatible parts : all are natural and pro-
bable,
A N D M U S I C. 83..
bable, and fuch as wc think wc have met with, or
might have met wich^ in our int^courfc with man-
kind.
From the fame cxtcnfive views of good and evil,
in all their forms and combinations, Homer has
been enabled to make each of his charaders per«
fedly diftind in itfclf, and different from all the
reft; infomuch that, before we come to the end
of the Iliad, we are as well acquainted with his
heroes, as with the faces and tempers of our moft
familiar friends. Virgil, by confining himfelf to
a few general ideas of fidelity and fortitude, h^
made his fubordinate heroes a very good fort of
people ; but they are all the fame, and we have no
clear knowledge of any one of them. Achates is
faithful, and Gyas is brave, and Cloanthus is
brave-, and this is all we can fay of the matter*.
* I cannot, however, admit the opinion of thof<; who con-
tend, that there is nothing of charafler in Virgil* Turnus k %
good poetical charafier, but borrowed from Homer, being an
Achilles in miniature. Mezentius is Well drawn, and of the
poet's own invention :r-a tyrant, who, together with impiety,
has contracted intolerable cruelty and pride; yet intrepid in
the field, and graced with one amiable virtue, fome imes found
in very rugged minds, a tender affedlion to a mofl defer ving
fon. In the good old King Evander, we have a charming
pidure of fimpic manners, refined by erudition, and uncor-
rupted by luxury. Dido has been already analyfed. There is
nothing, 1 think, in Camilla, which might not be expe^ed in
any female warrior ; but the adventures of her early life are
romantic and intere(ling« . The circumHance of her being,
when an infant, thrown acrofs a river, tied to a fpear, is (o
very f ngabr, that it would feem to have had a foundation in
h&y or in tradition. Something fimilar is related by Plutarch
of King Pyrrhus.
^ Q 2 We
84 ' O N P O E T R Y
Wc fee thcfc heroes at a diftalicCy and have fomc
notion of their (hape and fizc; but are not near
enough to diftinguilh their features: and every
f^ce feems to exhibit the fame faint and ambiguous
appearance. But of Horaer*s heroes we know
every particular that can b^ known. We eat, and
drink, and talk, and fight with them : we fee
thdm in adion, and out of it ; Hn the fields and in
their tents and houfes: — The very face of the
country about Troy, wc feem to be as well ac-
quainted with, as if we had been there. Similar
charadcrs there are among thefe heroes, as there
arc fimilar faces in every fociety 5 but we never
miftake one for another. Neftor and Ulyfles are
both wife, and both eloquent ; but the wifdom of
the former feems to be the cfFeft of experience;
that of the latter, of genius : The eloquence of the
one is fweet and copious, but not always to the pur-
pofe, and apt to degenerate into ftory-telling ; that
of the other is clofe, emphatical, and perfuafive^
and accompanied with a peculiar modefty and fim-
plicity of manner. Homer's heroes are all valiants
yet each difplays a modification of valour peculiar
to himfelf. One is valiant from principle, another
from conftitution i one is ralh, another cautious ;,
one is; impetuous and headftrong, another impe-
tuous, but tradable •, one is cruel, another mer-
ciful ; one is infolent and oftentatious, another
gentle and unafluming ^ one is vain of his perfon,
another of his ftrength>«.and a third of his family.
It would be tedious to give a complete enunr.era^
tion.
A N P M U S I C. 85
tiofi. Aimoft every fpecics <^ the heroic charaflcr
ts to be found io Homer.
The Paradiie Loft, though truly Epic, cannot
be caJled an Heroic poem ; for the agents in ic are
not heroes, but beings of a higher order *• Of
thefe the poet's plan did not admit the introduc-
tlon of many ; but moft of thofe whom he has in*
troduced are well chara<5lerized. I have already
fp^ken of his Satan, which is the higheft imagina-
ble fpecies of the diabolical charader. The infe-
rior fpecies are well diverfified, and in each variety
diftin^ly marked : One is flothful, another avari-
cious, a third fophiftical, a fourth furious ; and
though all are impious, fome are more outrage^-
oufly and blafphemoufly i)^ than others. — Adam
and £ve, in the date of innocence, art well ima-
gined, and admirably fupported -, and the difitrent
fentiments arifing from diflference of iex, are traced
Ofit with inimitable delicacy, and philofophical
propriety. After the fall, he makes them retain
the fame characters, without any other change than
what the tranlition from innocence to guilt might
bcfuppofed to produce : Adam has ftill that pre-
eminence in dignity, and Eve in lovelinefs, which
we ihould naturally look for in the father and n)o-
ther of mankind. — Of the blefied fpirirs, Raphael
* Samfon in the JgoMffia, is a fpecies of the heroic charac-
ter not to be found in Homer s diftindlly marked, and well
fupported. And Delilah, in the fame tragedy, is perhaps a
more perfect model of an alluring, infinuating, worthlefs^ wo*
man, than any other to be met with in ancient or modera
poetry,
G 3 and
86 .ON POETRY
and Michael are welf diftinguilhtd ;* the one for af-
fability, and peculiar good-will to the human race ;
the other for niajcfty, but fuch as commands ve-
neration, rather than feari — We are forry to add,
that Milton's attempt to foar ftill higher, only
(hows, that he had already foar^ as high, as, with-
out being *' blafted with excefs of light,'^ it is pof-
fible for the human imagination to rife.
1 have been led further into this fubjeft of poeti-
cal charaftcrs than I intended to have gone, or
than was neceflary in the prefent inveftigation.
For I prefume, it was long ago evident jr— that the
end of Poetry is to pleafc, and therefore that the
moft perfed poetry muft be the mod pleaGng ; —
that what is unnatural cannot give pleafure, and
therefore that poetry muft be according to nature ;
that it muft be either according to real nature, or
according to nature fomewhat different from the
reality ; — that if, according to real nature, it would
give no greater pleafure than hiftory, which is a
tranfcript . of real nature ; — that greater pleafur*
is, however, to he expefted from it, becaufe we
grant it fuperior indulgence, in regard to fidion,
and the choice of words j-r-and, confequently, that
poetry mvft be, not according to real nature, but
according to nature improved to that degree, which
is confiftent with probability, and fuitable to the
poet's purpofc*. — And hence it is that we call
Poetry
f Cum mundus fenfibllis (it anima rationali dign:tate inferior,
vidctur Poefis hsc humanae naturae largiri quas hiiloria denegat;
atque animo umbris lerum utcunque fatisfacere, cam folida
haberi
A N D M U S I C. 87
Poetry, An imitation of, nature. — For that
which is properly termed Imitation has always in
it fomething which is not in the original. If the
prototype and tranfcript be exaftlyalike; if there
be nothing in the one which is not in the other ;
we may call the latter a rcprefentation, a copy, a
draught, or a pifture, of the former 5 but we never
call it an imitation.
haberi non poilint. Si qots enim rem acutius introfpiciat, fir-
mam ex Poeii foxnitur argomentam, magnitudineai rerum ma*
gis illunrem, ordinem magis perfeftuniy ec varietatem magis
pulchram, animas humanse complacere^ quam in natura ipfa,
poft lapfum, reperiri ullo modo poflic. Qaapropter, com res
geflas, et eventus, qui verse biftoriae fubjiciuntttr, non fine ejus
amplitudinisy in qua aQima humana fibi fatiftfaciat, praedo eA
Poefis, quae fada magis heroica confingat. Cum hidoria vera
fucceiTus rerum, minime pro meritis virtutum ec fcelerum nar-
ret; cor rigit earn Poefis, et exitus, et fortnnas, fecundum me-
rita, et ex lege Nemefeos, exhibet. Cum hiiloria vera, obvia
rerum fatietate et fimilitudiney animas humanae faftidio fits
reficit earn Poefis, inexpedlata, et varia, et viciflltudinum plena
canens. Adeo ut Poefis ilia non folum ad dele<^ationem, fed
etiam aJ animi magnitudinem, et ad mores canfcrat. Qnare
et merito etiam divinitatis particeps videri poifit : quia anionaii^
erigjr, et in fublime rapit ; rerum fimulacra ad animi defideria
accommodando, non animum rebus (quod ratio facit et hifioria)
fubmiitendo.
Bacon. De Aug. Scient. fag. i68, Lttg» Sat. 1645,
G 4 CHAP.
88 ON POETRY
C H A P. V.
Furtbtr lUuJirations. Of Poetical Arrang$metU.
IT was formerly remarked, that the events of
Poetry muft be " more compaft, more ckar-
'^ ly connefted with caufes and confequences, and
*' enfolded in an order more flattering to the ima-
" gination, and more interefting to the paflions,"
than the events of hiftory commonly are. This
may feem to demand fome illuftration.
I. Some parts of hiftory intereft us much ; but
others fo little, that, if it were not for their ufe in
the connedion of events, we (hould be inclined to
overlook them altogether. But all the pans of a
poem inuft be interefting: — Great, to raife admi-
ration or terror ; unexpected, to give furprife; pa-
thetic, to draw forth our tender afFcftions ; im-
portant, from their tendency to the elucidation of
the fable, or to the difplay of human charader-,
amufing, from the agreeable piftures of nature
they prefent us with ; or of peculiar efficacy in pro-
moting our moral improvement. And therefore,
in forming an Epic or Dramatic Fable, from hif.
tory or tradition, the poet muft omit every event
thatjcannot be improved by one or other of thefe
pMrpofes.
II. Some events are recorded in hiftory, merely
becaufe they are true; though their confequences
be of no moment, and their caufes unknown/ But
of
A N D M U S I C. 89
of all poetical events, the caufes ought to be tnani-
feft, for the fake of probability ; and the effeAs
confiderable, to give them importance:
III. A htfloiy may be as long as you pleafe ;
for, while it is inftruftive and true, it is (till a good
hiftory. But a poem muft not be too long :— firft,
becaufe to write good poetry is exceedingly diffi-
cult, fo that a very long poem would be too exten-
five a work for human life, and too laborious fer
human ability ; — fecoodly, becaufe, if you would
be fuitabty afieAed with the poet's art, you muft
have a diftinft remembrance of the whole fable,
which could not be, if the fable were very long * ;
and, thirdly, becaufe poetry is addrefled to the
imagination and paffions, which cannot long be
kept in violent exercife, without working the mind
into a difagreeable ftate, and even impairing the
health of the body.— That, by thefc three peculi*
art ties of the poetical art, its powers of pleafing are
heightened, and confcquently its end promoted, is
too obvious to require proof.
IV. The ftrcngth of a pafllion depends in part on
the vivacity of the impreffion made by its objed.
Diftrcfs which we fee, we are more afFedled with
than what we only hear of; and, of fevcral de-
fcriptions of an afFefting objcft, we are moll mov-
cd by that which is moft lively. Every thing in
poetry, being intended to operate on the paffions,
muft be difplayed in lively colours, and fet as it
were before the eyes; And therefore the poet mull:
• Ariiloi. Poet, i 7.
7 attend
$o ONPOETRY
attend to many niinute, though pifturcfque circum-
fiances, that may, or perhaps muft, be- overlook-
ed by the hiftorian* Achilles putting on his arm-
our, is dcfcribed by Homer with a degree of mi-
nutcnefs, which, if it were the poet*s bufinefs lim-
ply to relate fads, might appeiar tedious or imper-
tinent*, but which in reality anfwcrs a good pur-
pofe, that of giving us a diftinfb image of this
dreadful warrior : it being the end of poetical de-
fcription, not only to relate fa&s, but to paint
them * i not metcly to inform the judgment, and
enrich
• Homer's poetry is always pi£lure(qiie. AlgarottiV after
Lncian, calls him the prince of painters. He fets before us the
whole irinble appearance of the object he deicribes, fo that the
]>aimer would have nothing to do but co work after his model.
He has more epithets expreilive of colour than any other poet I
Sim acquainted with: black earth, ivine" coloured ocean, and
even tjohite milk, &c. This to the imagination of thole readers
who ftiKly the various colourings of natare is not a little
amufing, however o^enfive it may be to the delicacy of cer-
tain critics ; — whofe rules for the ufe of epithets if we were to
adopt, we (hould take the palm of poetry from Homer, Vir-
gil^ »nd Milton, and beftow it on thofe fimple rhymers, who,
becaufe they have no othef merit, m.ull be admired for barren -
»efs of fancy, and poverty of langaage. — An improper ufe of
epithets is indeed a grievous fault. And epithets become im-
proper : — I* when they add nothing to the fenfe; or to the
piflure ; — and dill more, when, 2. they feem rather to take
fomething away from it ; — 3. when by their colloquial meannefs
they debafe the fubjeft. — TKe(e three faults arc all exemplified
in the following lines :
The chariot of the King of kings.
Which affive tro6ps of angels drew.
On a ftrong tempeft's rapid wings.
With mofi amazhg fwiftnefs flew. Tafe and Brady.
4. Epithets
A N D M, U S I C. 91
rnrich the memory, but to awaken the paBions,
and captivate the imagination. Not that every
thinir
4. E;:i:hcts arc improper, when, InlJeacI of adding to xhe fen(e,
they only exaggerate the found. Homer's mo'ku^oxaSom
^u\ourfTr,t; coiitaio« both an imitative found, and a lively future;
.Sue Tiiomfoa gives us nothing but, noife, when he iays, 4e« '
fcribing a thunder ftorm,
Follows the looien'd aggravated roar.
Enlarging, deepening, mingling, peal on peal,
Crufli'd horrible, convuifing heaven and earth.
The following is perhaps liable to the fame objedlion ;
Then ruftiing, crackling, crafhmg, thunder down.
J. Epithets are faulty, when they overcharge a verfe (b as to
hurt its harmony, and incumber its motion. — 6, When thcf
darken the fcnfe, by crowding too many thoughts together. ^
Both thcfe faults appear in this paffage :
Her eyes in liquid light luxurious fwim.
And langnidi with unutterable love;
Heaven'b nvarm bloom glows along each hrifrhtenlng litnb^
Where flati'ring ^/aWthe veil'i thin manllings rove.
Laftly, Epithets are improper, when they recur more fre«
qaently, than the genius either of the language or of the com*
poiitioQ wilt admit. For fome languages are more liberal of
epithets than others, the Italian, for inftance, than the EngliQi ;
and (bme forts of ver(ib require a more perfedt fimplicity than
others, thofe, for example, ihat exprefs dejection or con^po.
furecf mind, than thofe that give utterance to enihuiiafm, indig-
nation, and other ardent emotions*
In general, Plpithets, that add to the fcnfe, and at the
fame time afliil the harmony, mull be allowed to be ornamen-
tal» if they are not too frequent. Nor. fliould thofe be ob-
je^cd
92 ONPOETRY
thing in poetry is to be minutely dcfcribcd, or that
every minute delcription mull of ncceffity be a
long one. Nothing has a worfe efFedV, than de-
fcripiions too long, too frequent, or too minute j
witncfs the Davideis of Cowley : — and the reader
is never fo efiedually intcrcfted in his fubjeft, as
when, by meafis of a few circumflances well fele&-
cd, he is made to conceive a great many others.
From Virgirs Pukberrima Didoy and the fimile of
Diana amidft her nymphs *, our fancy may form
for itfclf a pifture of feminine lovelinefs and digni-
ty more perfcdk than ever Cowley or Ovid could
exhibit in their moft elaborate defcriptions. Nay,
if has been, juftly remarked by the beft critics +,
jcfled to, which give to the expreflion either delicacy or dig*
nity. And as thefe qaalities do not at all times depend on
the fame principle, being in fome degree determined by fal<-
ihion, is there not reafon for fuppofing, chat the moft excep*
tionable of Homer's epithets, thole I mean which he applies
to his perfons, might in that remote age have had a proprie*
ty, whereof at prefent we have no conception ? The epithets
a/Tumed by Eallern kings feem ridiculous to an European ;
and yet perhaps may appear fignificant and fblemn to thofe who
are accuflomed to hear them in, the original language. Let it
be obferved too» that Homer compofed his immortal work at
a time whep wriitpg was not common ; when people were ra-
ther hearers than readers of poetry, atsd could not often enjoy
the pleafure even of hearing it ; and when, confequently, the
frequent repetition of certain words and phrafe$,r being a help
to memory, as well as to the right appreheniion of the poet's
meanings would be thought rather a beauty than a bl^miih*
The faBK thing is obf^rvable in fome of ,owr old ballads,
* Virg. ^neid. lib. i. verf 500.
t Demet, Phaler, § :;66, Burke on the Sublime and Beattti-
f«].
that,
A N D MUSIC. 93
that, in the dcfcription of great objcfts, a certain
degree of obfcurity, not in the language, but in
the pidurc or notion prcfcnted to the mind, has
fometimes a happy elFcft in producing admiration,
terror, and other emotions conncftcd with the fu-
blime : — As when the witches in Macbeth defcribe .
the horrors of their employment by calling it in
three words, " A deed without a name." — But
it is only a great artift, who knows when to be
brief in defcription, -and when copious -, where to
light up his landfcape with funftiine, and where to
cover it with darkncfs and tcmpeft. To be able
to do this, without fufFcring the narration to lan-
guish in its progrefs, or to run out into an immo-
derate length; without hurrying us away from af-
fefting objefts before our paffions have time to
operate, or fixing our attention too long upon
them, — it will be proper, that the poet confine the
aftion of his poem to a fhort period of time. But
hiftory is fubjcft to no reftraints, but thofe of truth ;
and, without incurring blame, may take in any
length of duration.
V. The origin of nations, and the beginnings of
great events, are little known, and feldom inte-
rcfting; whence the firft part of every hiftory, com-
pared with the fcquel, is fomewhat dry and tedi-
ous. But a poet muft, even in the beginning of
his work, intereft the readers, and raife high ex-
peftation ; not by any pomp of ftyle, tar lefs by
ample promiles or bold profcflions •, but by fctting
immediately before them feme incident, flriking
enough to raife curiofity, in regard both to its
caufes
94 ONI^OETRY
caufes and to its confequenccs. He rriuft therc^
fore take up his ftory, not at the beginnings but
Ja the middle •, or rather, to prevent the work from
being too long, as near the end as pofllble : And
afterwards take fome proper opportunity to inform
us of the preceding events, in the way of narra-
tive, or by the converfation of the perfons intro-
duced, or by (Kort and natural digreflions.
The adtion of both the Iliad and.Odyffey begins
about fix weeks before its conclufion j although
the principal events of the war of Troy are to be
found in the former, and the adventures of a ten
years voyage, followed by the fuppreffion of a dan-
gerous domeftic enemy, in the latter. One of the
firft things mentioned by Homer in the Iliad, is a
plague, which Apollo in anger fcnt into the Gre-
cian army commanded by Agamemnon, and now
encamped before Troy. Who this Agamemnon
was, and who the Grecians were j for what reafon
they had come hither •, how long the fiege had laft-
cd ; what memorable anions had been already per-
formed, and in what condition both parties now
were: — All this we foon learn from occafional
hints and converfations interfperfed through the
poem.
In the Eneid, which, though it comprehends
the tranfadions of feven years, opens within a few
months of the concluding event, we are firft prc-
fented with a view of the Trojan fleet at fca, and
no lefs a perfon than Juno interefting herfelf to
raife a ftorm for their deftruflion. This excites a
curiofity to know fomething further : Who thcfe
* Trojans
A N D M U S I C. gs
Trojans were ; whence they had come, and whi-
ther they were bound ; why they had left their
own country, and what had befallen them fince
they left it. On all thefe points, the poet, with-
out quitting the track of his narrative, foon glides
the fuUeft information. The ftorm rifcs; the Tro-
jans are driven to Africa, and hofpitably receiTed
by the queen of the country -, at whofe dcfire their
commander relates his. adventures*
The aftion of Paradife Loft commences not
many days before Adam and Eve are expelled from
the garden of Eden, which is the concluding event.
This poem, as its plan is incomparably more fu-
blime and more important, than that of either
the Iliad or Eneid, opens with a far more in-
terefting fcene ; a multitude of angels and arch-
angels (hut up in a region of torment and dark-
nefs, and rolling on a lake of unquenchable fire.
Who thefe angelk are, and what brought them
iiito this mifcrable condition, we naturally wilh
to know ; and the poet in due time informs us;
partly from the convcrfation of the fiends them-
ielves ; and more particularly by the mouth of a
happy fpirit, fent from heaven to caution the
father and mother of mankind againft temptation*
and confirm their good rcfolutions by unfolding
the dreadful efFcfts of impiety and difobtdience.
This poetical arrangement of events, fo dx£*-
ferent from the hiftorical, has other advantages
bcfides thofe arifing from brevity, and compiuft-
nefs of detail ; it is obvioufly more afFcding to
the fancy, and more alarming to the paffions ^
and.
g6 ONPOETRY
and, being more fuiuble to the order and' the
manner in which the aftions of other men ftrike
our fenfes, is a more exaft imitation of human
aiFairs. I hear a fuddep noife in the ftreet, and
run to fee what is the matter. An infurreAion
has happened, a great multitude is brought to*
gether, and fomething very important is going
forward. The fcene before me is the firfl: thing
that engages my attention ; and is in itfelf fo in^
terefting, that for a moment or two I look at it
in filence and wonder. By and by, when I get
time for reflexion, 1 begin to enquire into the
caufe of all this tumult, and what it is the
people would be at ; and one who is better in-
formed than I, explains the affair from the be-
ginning 5 or perhaps I make this out for myfelf,
from the words and anions of the pcrfons prin-
cipally concerned. — ^This is a fort of pifturc*
of poetical arrangement, both in Epic and Dra-
matic Compofition ; and this plan has been fol-
lowed in narrative odes and ballads both an-
cient and modern.— The hiftorian purfues a dif-
ferent method. He begins perhaps with an ac-
count of the manners of a certain age, and of the.
political conftitution of a certain country; then
introduces a particular perfon, gives the ftory of
his birth, connexions, private charader, purfuits,
difappointments, and of the events that pro-
♦ This illuftraiioD, or fometh'ng very like it, I think I
have read ia Batteux*« Commeitary od Horace^s Art of
Poetry.
motcd .
1
A N D M U S I C. 57
lUbted his views, and brought him acquainted
With other turbulent fpirits like himfelf ^ and fo
t>roceeds. Unfolding, according to the order of
time, the caufes, principles, and progrefs of the
confpiracy ;-^if that be the fubjeft which he uri-
dertakes to illuftrate. It cannot be denied, that
this latter method is more favourable to calm
information : but the former, compared with if,
will be found to have all the advantages already.
Ipccified, and to be more efFcdually produftivfc
of that mental pleafUfe which depends on the
pafljons and imagination.
• VI. If a work have no determinate end, it hai
no meaning ; and if it have many ends, it will
diftracl by its multiplicity. Unity of defign,
therefore, belongs in fome meafure to all compo-
fitions, whether in vcrfe or profe. But to fome
it is more effential than to others j and to none fo
much as to the higher poetry. In certain kinds
bf hiftory, there is unity fufBcient, if all the
events recorded be referred to one perfon j ih
others, if to one period of time, or to one people,
or even to the inhabitants of one and the fame
planet. But it is not enough, that the fubjeft of
a poetical fable be the exploits of one perfon % for
thefe may be of various and even of oppofite forts
and tendencies, and take up longer time, than
the nature of poetry can admit t — far lefs can si
regular poem comprehend the affairs of one period^
or of one people : — it muft be limited to fome
one great aSfion or events to the illuftratiort of
which all the fubordiftate events muft contribute \
H and
98 O N P O E T R Y
and thefe muft be fo conneded with one atiother5
as well as with the poet's general purpofe, that
one cannot be changed, tranfppied, or taken
gway, without affeding the confiftence and &s^
h'llity of the whole *« In itfelf an incident may
be interefting, a charader well drawn, a defcrip*'
tion beautiful ; and yet, if it disfigure the gene-
ral plan, or if it obftrud or incumber, inftead
of helping forward the main adion, a correft
artift would confider it as but a gaudy fuperfluity
or fplendid deformity; like a piece of fcarlet
cloth fowed upon a garment of a different co-
lour f • Not that all the parts of the fable either
are, or can be, equally eflential. Many defcrip-
tions and thoughts, of Uttle confequence to the
plan, may be admitted for the fake of variety ;
and the poet may, as well as the hiftorian and
philofopher, drop his fubje^l for a time, in order
to take up an affecting or inftru6live digreffipn.
The dodrine of poetical digreflions and epi-
fodes has been largely treated by the critics. I
ihall only remark, that, in ellimating their pro*
priety, three things are to be attended to: — their
connection with the fable or fubjeft ;— their own
peculiar excellence ;— and their fubferviency to
the poet's defign.
I. Thofe digreffions, that both arife from and
V terminate in the fubjcft ; like the epifode of the
angel Raphael in Paradife Loft, and the tranfi-
tion to the death of Cefar and the civil wars in
the firft book of the Georgic; are the molt
• Ariftot. Poet. § 8. f Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. 15, Uc.
artful.
A N D M a s i C- 99
Mrtful, atid if fuitably executed claim the higheft
praife : — tbofc that arifc from, but do not tet^
minate in the fubjed, are perhaps fecond in the
order of merit; like the ftory of Did6 in the
Eneid, and the encomium on a countryJife in
the fecond book of the Georgic :— thofe come
. next, that terminate in, but do not rife from the
fable 5 of which there are fcve^al in the third book
of theEneid,and in the Odyffey t— and thofe, that
neither terminate in the fable, nor rife fromit^
are the leaft artful ; and if they be long, cannot
efcape cenfure, unlefs their beauty be very great.
But, a. we are willing to excufe a beautiful
epifode, at whatever expence to the fubjed it
may be introduced. They who can blame Virpl
for obtruding upon them the charming tale of Or-
pheus and £urydice in the fourth Georgic, or
Milton for the apoftrophe to light in the beginning
of his third book, ought to forfeit all title to the
po^ufal of good poetry ; for of fuch divine drains
one would rather be the author, than of all the
books of criticifm in the world. Yet ftill it is
better, that an epifode poffefs the beauty of con-
nexion, together with its own inirinfic elegance,
than this without the other.
Moreover, in judging of the propriety of epi-
ibdes, and other "fimilar contrivances, it may be
expedient to attend, 3. to the defign of the poet,.
as diftinguilhed from the fable or fubjefl: of the
poem. The great defign, for example, of Vir-
gil, was to iniereft his countrymen in a poem
written with a view to reconcile them ta the pef-
H 2 fon
100 ONPOETRY
fon and government of Auguftus. Whatcvef,
therefore, in the poem tcftds to promote this dc-
fign, even though it fiiould, in fome degree, hurt
the contexture of the fable, is really a proof of
the poet's judgment, and may be not only allowed
but applauded.— The progrefs of the a6bion of
the Eneid may feem to be too long obftruded, in
one place, by the ftory of Dido, which, though
it rifes from the preceding part of the poem, has
no influence upon the fequel ; and, in another,
by the epifodc of Cacus, which, without injury to
the fabky might have been omitted altogether.
:Yet thefe eplfodes, interefting as they are to us
and to all mankind, becaufe of the tranfcendent
;nierit of the poetry, muft have been ftill niore in-
terefting to the Romans, becaufe of their connec**
tion with the Roman affairs : for the one accounts
poetically for their wars with Carthage ; and the
.other not only explains fome of their religious ce-
remonies, but alfo gives a moft charming rural
pifture of thofe hills and vallies in the neighbour-
hood of the Tiber, on which, in after-times, their
majeftic city was fated to ftand. — And if we con-
fider, that the defign of Homer's Iliad was, not
only to (how the fatal efFeds of diflention among
confederates, but alfo to immortalife his country,
and celebrate the moft diftinguilhed families in ii,
we Ihall be inclined to' think more favourably
thah critics generally do, of fome of his long
fpeeches and digreffions^ which, though, to us
they may feem trivial, muft have been very in-
terefting to his countrymen, on account of the
genealogies
A N D M U S I C. loi
genealogies and private hiftory recorded in them.
^— Shakcfpeare's Hiftorical Plays, confidered as
Dramatic fables, and tried by the laws of Trage-
dy and Comedy, appear very rude compofitions.
But if we attend to the poet's defign (as the clc*
gant critic * has with equal truth and beauty ex-
plained it), we (hall be forced to admire his
judgment in the general condudt of thofc pieces,
as well as unequalled fuccefs in the execution of
particular parts.
There is yet another point of view (as hinted
formerly) in which thefc digreflions may be con-
fidered. If they tend to elucidate any important
charafter, or to introduce any intercfting event
not otherways within the compafs of the poem,
or to give an amiable difplay of any particular
virtue, they may be intitled, not to our pardon
only, but even to our admiration, however loofe-
ly they may hang upon the fable. All thefe three
ends are cfFcfted by that moft beautiful epifode of
Hedor and Andromache in the fixth book of the
Iliad ; and the two laft, by the no lefs beautiful
one of Euryalus and Nifus, in the ninth of the
Eneid.
The beauties of poetry are diftinguiffiable into
local and univcrfal. The former may refledt
great honour on the poet, but the latter are more
excellent in themfelves -, and thefe chiefly we mufl:
be fuppofed to have in our eye, when we fpeak
of the efTcntial characters of the art. A well*
* ^(lay on the writings and genius of Shakefpeare, p. i$.
H 3 ' invented
|02 O N ^ O E T R y
invented f»bk, su it U pne of the nK>ft di^uU
Pjperations of h^man penius *, muA; be a)loifired
^ The difEcolty of cociftrqdllng an Epic or Dramatic fable
jnay appear from the bad fuccefs of vtry great wrhers who have
attempted it. Of Praraaric fabf^s there are indeed Several in the
fvorld, which may be allowed tohave.come i^ear perfedion. But
iIm beauty of Homer'i fable remains unrivalled to ihis day. VirgiJ
|Uid Tafib have imit;^ted« but not equalled i(. That of Paradife
Loft is artful, and for the mod part judicious: I am certain the
author could have equalled Homer in this, as he has excelled
bim in fome otiier refpe^s :— ^Biit the nature of his plan would
90t admit the introde^ltioR of ib many inctdeUti, aa we fee in the
Iliad, co-operating to one determinate end* — Of the Comic C^or
pee we have twoexquiiite models in Eng|i(h, J mean the Amelia
and Tom Jones of Fielding. The introduftory part of the latter
fdlows indeed the hiftorical arrangement, in a way fomewhat re-
fembling the practice of Euripides in ]u$ prologues, or at lead %%
excuieable : But, with th;s exception, we n^ay Venture to fty,
that botb fables would bear to be examined by Aridoile hinUelf^
and, if compared with thofe of Homer, would not fuffer in the
comparifon. This author, to an amazing variety of probable
occurrences, and of characters well drawn, well fuppor ted, and
finely contrafted, has given the noft peHeA unity, by making
tliem ail co*(^erate to aae and the £ime £09! parpojlr. It yields
a very pleaiing furpnfe to obferve^in the unravelling of his plotsi^
particularly that of Tom Jones^ hpw many incidents, to which,
becaufe of their apparent minutenefs, we had fcarce attended as
they occurred in the narrative, are found to have been efTential
|o the plot^ And wl^tt heightens our idea of the poet's arc is,
that all this is efeded by natural laeaoat and human abilkiess
without any machipery : — W^ile his great mafier Ccrvaote^ if
pbliged to work a miracle for the cure of Don Quixote,— Can
any leafon be affigned, why the inimitable Fielding, who wa^
fo perfed in Epic fabte, fhonld bave ftoceeded ib tndifierendy
|n Dramatic } Was it owing to the peculiarity of his genius, of
^iYy^ cffpumftancesf Xo w^f thing m the iiatfire of ^amatic
A N D M U S I C. loa
to be one of the bigbeft beauties of poetry. The
defyn^ Vk diftinguidied from th/e ftibU^ may
ftand in need of commentators to explain it ; but
a well^wroughc fable is uniyerfaliy underftood,
and univerfally pleafmg. And if ever a poet fhall
arifei who to the art of Sophocles and Homer, can
join the corredlnefs and delicacy of Virgil, and
the energy, variety, and natural colouring of
Shakefpeare, the world will then iee fomething in
poetry more excellent than we can at prefent
conceive.
And now, from the pofition formerly eftablUh-
edy that the end of this divine art is, ioiroeflt4*
Jure^ I have endeavoured to prove, that, whether
in difplaying the appearances of the material
univerie, or in imitating the workings of tlie
human mind, and the varieties of human cha*
raAer, or in arranging and combining into one
whole the feveral incidents and parts wlicreof his
fable confifts, — the aim of the poet muft be, to
copy Nature, not as it is, but in that ftate of
perfedion in which, conliftently with the parti*
cular genius of the work, and the laws of verifi-
militude, it may be fuppofcd to be.
Such,' in general, is the nature of that poetry
which is intended to raife admiration, pity, and
^htr ferious emotionB. But in this art, as in all
others, there are different degrees of excellence j
writing in general^ or of that particular .tafte in Dramatic Come-
dy which CoDgreve and Vanburgh had introduced) and which
be was obliged to comply with ?
H 4 and
104 O N P O E T R T
and we have hitherto diredlcd our view chiefly iq
the highcft. All ferious poets arc not equally
folxcitous to improve nature. Euripides is faid
to have reprefented men as they were ; Sopho-
cles, more poetically, as they fhpuld or might
be*. Theocritus, in his Idyls, and Spenfcr in
his Shepherd's Cakndar, give us language and
fentiments more nearly approaching thofe of the:
Rus verum et barbarum +, than what we mttt
with in^thc Paftorals of Virgil and Pope. In the
Hiftorical drama, human charafters and events
muft be according to hiftorical truth, or at lead
n6t fp r^pdote from it, as to lead into any im-
portant mifapprehenfion of fa£t. And in the
HiftorUal Epic paem, fuch as the Pharfalia. of Lur.
can, and the Campaign of Addifon, the hiftorical
arrangement is preferred to the poetical, as being
nearer the truth. Yet nature is a little improvccj
even in thefe poems. The perfons in Sha^e-
fpeare's Hiftorical Plays, and the heroes of the
pharfalia, talk in verfe, and fuitably to their
chara^ers, and with a reac^inefs, beauty, and
harmony of expreflion, not to be met with in
real life, nor even in hiftory ; fpeeches are in-
vented, and, to heighten the defcription, circum-
itance$ addpd, wirh great latitude; real e>rent§
are rendered more compaA and more ftriftly dcr
pendent upon one another, and fiftitjous oncsj
• Arlftot. Poet.
f Martial. The real unpoUjhed country.
§ broughl;
AND M U S I a 105
brought in, to elucidate hum^ chara&ers, and
diverfify the narration.
The more poetry improves nature, by copying
after general ideas collected from extenfive obp
fervation, the more it partakes (according to Ari-
ftotlc) of the nature of philofophy ; the greater
ftretch of fancy and of obfervation it requires in
the artift, and the better chance it has to be uni--
verfally agreeable. An ordinary painter can give
a portrait of a beautiful face : but from a num«
ber of fuch faces to colleft a general idea of beau*
ty more ptrfcGt than is to be found in any indi*
viduai, and then to give exiftence to that idea,
by drawing it upon canvas (as Zeuxis is faid to
have done when he made a famous pidure of
Helen *), is a work which one muft poilefs in-
vention and judgment, as well as dexterity, to
be able to execute. For it is not by copying
the eyes of one lady, the iips of another, and the
nofc of a third, that fuch a pifture is to be
formed ; — a medley of this kind would probably
be ridiculous, as a certain form of feature may
fuit one face, which would not fuit another : —
but it is by comparing together feveral beautiful
mouths (for example), remarking the peculiar
charm of each ; and then conceiving an idea of
that feature, different perhaps from all, and more
pierfed: than any : and thus proceeding through
the feveral features, with a view, not only to the
plour, fliape, and proportion, of each part, but
• Plin. Hift. Natur. lib. 35,
alfo
to6 O N P O E T R Y
alfo to the barmpny of the whole. It rarely hap-
pens, that an individual is fo complete in any
one quality as we could defire ; and though it
were in the opinion of fon^e, it would not in that
of all. A lover may think his miftrefs a nK)del
of perfedion ; (he may have moles and freckles
on her face, and an odd caft of her eye ; and yet
he Ihall think all this becoming: but another
man fe^ her in a different light ; difcovers many
blemiihes perhaps, and but few beauties 9 thinks
her too fat or too lean» too Ihort or too tall.
Now, what would be the confequence, if this
bdy's portrait were to appear in a piAure, under
the charadter of Helen or Venus ? The lover
would admire it ; but the reft of the world would
wonder at the painter's tafte. Great artifts have»
however, fallen into this error. Rubens, while
he was drawing feme of his pieces, would feem
to have had but two ideas of feminine lovelinefs %
and thofe were copied from his two wives : all
the world approves his conjugal partiality ; but
his tafte in female beauty all the world does ngt
approve.
Individual obieds there are, no doubt, in n^*
twce^ which comnaand univerfal admiration. There
^tfe many women in Great Britain, whofe beauty
aU the world would acknowledge. Nay, pei:*
haps, there are fome fuch in every nation : for,
howeyer catpridous our tafte for beauty may be
deemed b^ modern pbilofophers, 1 have been
^flured, that in the Weft Indies a female negro
feldom paiTes for handfome among the blacks^
who
A N D M U S I C 107
who is not really io in the opinion of the white
people. There are charaAers in neat life, ivhich«
with Uttie or no heightening, might make a good
figure even in Epic poetry : there are natural
landfcapes, than which one could not defire any
thing c^ the kind more beautiful. But fuch in^
dividuals are not the moft common ; and there-
fore, though the rule is not without exceptions,
it may, however, be admitted as a rule. That
the poet or painter, who means to adapt himfelf
jDo the general tafte, fhould copy after general
ideas colle£led from extenfive obfervation of na-
ture. For the moft part, the peculiarities of in-
dividuals are figrceable only to individuals ; the
manners of Frenchmen to Frenchmen ; the drefs
of the feafon to the beaux and belles of the feafon 5
the fentiments and language of Newmarket, to
the heroes of the turf, and their imitators. But
manners and fentiments, dreiTes and faces^ may
be imagined, which fhall be agreeable to all who
have a right to be plcafed : and thefe it is the
bufinefs of the imitative artift to invent, and to
exhibit.
Yet mere portraits are ufeful and agreeable :
^n^ poetry, even when it falls (hort of this phik>-
fopfaical perfe&ion, may have great merit as an
inftrumcnt of both ihftruftion and pleafure. Some
minds have no turn to abftraft fpeculation, and
would be better pleafed with a notion of an indi*
yidual) than with an idea of a fpecies *-, or with
feeing
^ fdfa, according to the ufage of the Greek philoropheri,
fiom whom we have the word, figQiiies« ** A thought of the
<> mind
\
io8 O N P O E T R Y
feeing in an Hiftorical picture or Epic poem, th^
portraits or charaders of their acquaintance, than
the fame form of face or difpofition improved
into a general ideaf. And to moft men,
fimple u^iiadorned nature is, at certain times, and
in certain compofitions, more agreeable, than the
mpft elaborate improvements of art; as a plain
Ihort period, without modulation, gives a plcafing
variety to a difcourfe. Many fuch portraits of
fimple nature there are in the fubordinate parts
both of Homer*s and of Virgil's poetry : and an
excellent cffeftthey have (as was already obferved).
in giving probability to the fiftion *, as well as.
in gratifying the reader's fancy with images di-
•* mind which is exprefled by a general term.'* Noti$$f is u(ed
by many Englifli writers of credit to fignify, ** A thought of the
** mind which maybe exprefled by a proper or individual name."
Thnsy 1 hare a motfoff of London, but an iiiea of a city ; a notiofi
of a parlicalar hero, but an idea of beroirm. Thefetwo words
have long been confounded by the beft writers ; but it were to be
wiihed, that, as the things are totally diiferent, the names had
been fo too. Had this been the cafe, a great deal of confuiion
peculiar to modern philofophy, and ari(ing from an ahibiguous,
and almoft unlimited, ufe of the word ii^ea, might have been
prevented.
t An hiftorical pidure, like Weft's Death ofWalfty in which
the faces are all portraits of individual heroes, and the drefles
according to the prefent mode, may be more interefting now,
than if thefe had been more pidurefque, and thofe exprefiive of
different modifications of heroifm* But in a future age, when
the drefles are become unfafhionable, and the faces no longer
known as portraits, is there not rea(bn to fear, that this excel--
lent piece will lofe of its eiFed ?
* See chap, iri.
ftina.
A N D M U S I C. X09
ftinft and lively, and cafily comprehended. The
hiftorical plays of Shakefpeare raife not our pity
and terror to fuch a height, as Lear, Macbeth,
or Othello; but they intereft and inftruft us
•greatly, notwithftanding. The rudcft of the
Eclogues of Theocritus, or even of Spenfer, have
by fome authors been extolled above thofe of
Virgil, becaufe more like real life. Nay, Cor-
neille is known to have preferred the Pharfalia
to the Eneid, perhaps from its being nearer the
truth ; or perhaps from the fublime fentiments of
Stoical morality fo forcibly and fo oftentatioufly
difplayed in it. .
Foets may refine upon nature too much, as
well as too little; for affeftation and rufticity
are equally remote from true ' elegance. — The
fiyle and fentiments of comedy fluould no doubt
be more correal and more pointed than thofe of
the moft polite converfation : but to make every
footman a wit, and every gentleman and lady an
epigram matift, as Congrcvc has done, is an ex-
ceffive and faulty refinement. The proper me-
dium has been hit by Menander and Terence, by
Shakefpeare in his happier fcenes, and by.Garrick,
Cumberland, and fome others of late renown.-—
To defcribe the paffion of love with as little de-
licacy as fome men fpeak of it, would be unpar-
donable; but to transform it into mere platonic
adoration, is to run into another extreme, lefs^
criminal indeed, but too remote from univerfal
truth to be univerfally interefting. To the for-
mer extreme Ovid inclines ; and Petrarch, and
his
no O N P O E t R t
his imitators, to the latter* Virgil has happlty
avoided both : but Miltdli has painted this paf-
lion, as diftind: from all others, with fuch pecu-
liar truth and beauty, that we cannot think Vol-
tairc's encomium too high, when he fays, that love
in all other poetry feems a weaknefs, but in Para-
dife Loft a virtue, — There are many good ftrokes
of nature in Ramfay's Gentle Shepherd ^ but the
author's paflion for the Rus verum betrays him
into fome indelicacies *: a cenfure that falls with
greater weight upon Theocritus, who is often ab-
folutely indecent. The Ita^an paftoral of Taflb
and Guarini, and the French of Fontenelle, run
into the oppofite extreme (though in fome parts
beautifully fimple), and difplay a fyftem of lural
manners, fo quiint and affeded as to outrage all
probability. I (hould oppofe feveral great names,
if t were to fay, that Virgil has given us the pa-
ftoral poem in its moft perfect ftate ; and yet I
cannot help being of this opinion, though I have
not time at prefent to fpecify my reafons.—- In
fad, though mediocrity of execution in poetry
be allowed to defervc the doom pronounced up-
on it by Horaccfi yet it is true, notwithftand-
* The language of this poem has been blamed, on Recount of
its vulgarity. The Scotch dialed^ is fufficiently ruftic, evea id its
moll improved flate : but in the Gentle Shepherd it is often de-
bafed by a phrafeology not to be met with, except among the
moft illiterate people. Writers on padoral have not always been
careful to diainguifh between coar^enef^ and ilmfflicity ; and yet
a plain fuit af cloaths and a biiadle of rags are not more dilfferenc*
t Hor. At. Poet, vtxL 373.
ing.
A N D M U S I C. HI
uig, that in this art, as in many other good
things, the point of excellence lies in a middle
between two extremes i and has been reached by
tbofe only who fought to improve nature as far
as the genius of their work would permit,
keeping at an equal diftance from rufticity on the
one hand, and aSeded elegance on the other.
If it were afked, what effedts a view of nature
degraded, or rendered lefs perfeft than the reali*
ty, would produce in poetry; I fhould anfwer.
The fame which caricatura produces in painting ;
— it would make the piece ludicrous. In almofl:
every countenance, there are fome exceptionable
features, by heightening the deformity whereof,
it is eafy to give a ridiculous likenefs even of a
good face. And in mod human characters there
are blemifhes, moral, intelleftual, or corporeal*
by exaggerating which to a certain degree^ you
may form a comic charader ; as by railing the
virtues, abilities, or external advantages of indi-
viduals, you form Epic or Tragic charaders. I
fay, to a certain degree \ for if, by their vices,
want of underftanding, or bodily infirmities,
they (hould raife difguft, pity, or any other im-
portant emotion, they are then no longer the ob-
jcfts of comic ridicule ; and it is an egregious
fault in a writer to attempt to make them fo *.
It is a fault, becaufe it proves his judgment to
be perverted, and tends to pervert the fcntiments,
and ruin the morals of mankind.
♦ Sec Eflay on Laughter, chap, 3.
5 But
til On POEtRY
But is nature always degraded in Comic ^cf*-
formances ? I anfwcr. No -, neither is it always
improved, as we remarked already, in ferious
poetry. Some human charafters are fo truly he-
roic, as to raife admiration, without any height-
cnings of poetical art -, and fome are fo truly
laughable, that the comic writer would have no*
thing to do, but to reprefent them as they are#
Befides, to raife laughter is not always the aim,
cither of the Epic Comedy, or of the Dramatic t
fublime pafllons and charafters are fometimcs
introduced; and thefe may be heightened as
much as the poet finds neceffary for his purpofe,
provided that, in his ftyle, he affeft no heroi-
cal elevation ; and that his adion and the rank
of his pcrfons, be fuch as might probably be
met with in common life. In regard to fable,
and the order of events, all Comedy requires,
or at Icaft admits, as great perfcftion as Epic
poetry icfelf.
CHAP.
A N D M U S I C. f 13
CHAP. VI.
Remarks on Music*
SECT. I.
Of Imitation. Is Mufic an Imitative Art ?
MAN from his birth is prone to imitation,
and takes great plealure in it. At a time
when he is too young to underftand or attend to
rules, he learns, by imitating others, to fpeak,
and walk, and do many other things equally re-
quifite to life and happinefs. Mod of the fports
of children are imitative, and many Of them dra-
matical. Mimickry occafions laughter ; and a
juft imitation of human life upon the llar^c is
highly delightful to perfons of all ranks, condi-
tions, and capacities.
Our natural propenGty to imitation may in part
account for the pleafure it yields : for that is al-
ways pleafing which gratifies natural propcnfity^
nay, to pleale, and to gratify, are almoft fyno-
nymous terms. Yet the peculiar charm of imi-
tation may alfo be accounted for upon other prin-
ciples. To compare a copy with the original,
and trace out the particulars wherein they differ
and wherein they refemble, is in itfelf a pleafing
exercife to the mind; and, when accompanied
I with
/
ri4 O N FO E T R IT
with admiration of the objedk imi^t«d; and' cff
the genius of the imkator, conveys a moft intcnfe
delight; which may be pcndcped flriH more in-^
tcnfe by the agreeable qualities of the inftrument
^ imitation, — by the beauty of the colours in
painting, by the harmony of the language in
poetry; and in mufic, by the fweetnefs, mellow^
nefi, pathos, and other pleafing varieties of vocal
and inftrumental found* And if to all this there
be added the merit of a moral defign. Imitation*
will then (hine forth in her moft amiable form,,
and the enraptured heart acknowledge her powers-
of pleaftng to be ifTcftftible.
Such is the delight we hare in imitatron, that
what would in itfclf give neither plcafure nofff*
pain, may become agreeable when well imitatecL
We fee without emotion many faces, and other
familiar objefts •, but a good pifture even of z^
ftone, or common plant, is not beheld with in*
difference. No wonder, then, tliat what is-
agreeable in itfclf, fcould, when furveyed through^
tlie medium of Ikilful imitation,, be highly agrees
able. A good portrait of a grim countenance^
is pleafing w but a portrait equally good of a^
beautiful one is ftill more fo; Nay, though a
man in a violent paffien, a monftrous wild beaft^
or a body agonized with pain, be a nsoft unplea-f
fing fpedlade, a pidfcure, or poetical dt^fcriptioa
of it, may be contemplated with delight "^-j the
pleafure we take in the artift's ingead^, joined
* AriHot. Poet. fefl. 4. Gerard on T^kfte, part 24 fe^ 4.
to;
8'
AND M tr S I C. 115
to otiir confciournefs that the ohjtGc before us is
iiot real, being more than fufficient ta counter-
balance eVery difagreeable feeling bccafioned by
the deformity of the figure *. Even human vicest
infirmities^ and misfortunes, when well repre-
JTented on the ftage, form a mofl: interiefting
iamufement So great is the charm of imita-
tion. '
That has been thought a very myfterious plea-
fure, which we take in witnefling tragical imi-
tations of human aftion, even while they move
us to pity and forrow. Several caufes feem to
fco-operate in producing it. i. It gives an agree-
able agitation to the mind, to be interefted in any
Went, that is not attended With real harm to our-
* Piflures; however, of great merit as Imitations, and valu-
able for the morality of the defign^ may yet be too horrid to be
contemplated with pleafarek A rpbber who had broke into a
itpofitory of the dead, in order to plunder a corpfe of fome rich
ornaments, is fatd to have been fo affeded with the hideout
fpedUcle of mortality which preiented itfelf whenhe opened the
co&n, that he flunk away, trembling add weeping, without
being able to execute his purpofe. I have met with an excellent
Jjrint upon this fubje£l 5 but was never able to look at it for half
i minute together. Too many objefts of the fame charafter
jhaay be feen in Hogarth*s Fro^refs of Crttdty. -^Therc is another
dafs of (hocking ideas, which poets have not always been fufH*
ciently careful to avoid. Juvenal and Swifr, and even Fope
himfelf, have given us defcriptions which it turns one's rtomach
to think of. And I mull confefs, that, notwithftanding the su*
thoriiy of Atterbury and Addifbn, and the general merit of the
parage, I could never reconcile myfelf to fame filthy ideas^
which, tp the unfpeakable fatisfadlion of Mr. Voltaire, IVIiltoa
lias 0n warily introduced in the famous allegory of Sin and Death.
la fclvcs
ii6 ON POETRY
felvcs or others. Nay, cfertain events of the mofl
fubftantial diftrefs would feem to give a gloomy
entertainment to fome minds : elfe why fhould
men run fo eagerly to fee fhipwrecks, executions,
riots, and even battles, and fields ' of flaughter ?
But the diftrefs upon the ftage neither is, nor is
believed to be, real ; and therefore the agreeable
exercife it may give to the mind is not allayed by
any bitter refleclions, but is rather heightened
by this confidrration, that the whole is imaginary.
To thofe who miftake it for real, as children arc
faid to do fometimes, it gives pain, and no plea^
fure. 2. Throughout the performance, we ad-
iTiire the genius of the poet, as it appears in the
language and fentiments, in the right conduct of
the fable, in diverfifying and fnpporting the cha-
rafters, and in devifmg inciclehts affefting in
theqiieives, and conducive to the main defign.
3. The ingenuity of the aftors muft be allowed
to be a principal cauft; of the pleafure with which
we witnefs eitlier tragedy or comedy. A bad play
well acted may [leale, and in fadl often does ^
but a good play ill afted is intolerable. 4. We
fympathife with the emotions of the audience, and
this heightens our own. For I apprehend, that
no perfon of fenfibility v/ould chufe to be the fole
fpeftator of a play, if he had it in his pov/er to fee
it in company with a multitude. When we have
read by ou; iclves a pleafing narrative, till it has
loft every charm that novelty can beftow, we
may renew its relifti by reading it in company,
and perhaps be evea more entertained than at
the
AND M U S I C. 117
Ae firfl: perufal. 5. The ornaments of the
theatre, the mufic, the fcenery, the fplendor of
the company, nay the very drcfs of the players,
niuffc be allowed to contribute fomeching to our
amufement: elfe why do managers lay out fo
much money in decoration? And, laiily, kt it
be obferved, that there is fomeching very pecu-
liar in the nature of pity. The pain, however
exquifite, that accompanies tliis amiable afteftion,
is fuch, that a man of a generous mind would
not difqualify himfelf for it, even if he could:
nor is the '^ iuxury of woe," that we read cf ia
poetry, a mere figure of fpecch, but a real fcnfa-
tion, wherewith every perfon of humanity is. ac-
. quainted, by frequent experience. Pity produces
a tendernefs of heart very friendly to virtuous im-
preiTions. It inclines us to be circumfpect and
lowly, and fenfible of the uncertainty of human
things, and of our dependence upon the great Au-
thor of our being i while continued joy and pro-
fperJty harden the heart, and render men pioud,
irreligious, and inattentive : fo that Solomon had
good reafon for affirming, that '' by the fadnefs
*^ of the countenance the heart is made Ixtter."
The exercife of pity, even towards imaginary fuf-
ferings, cannot fail to give pleafure, if attended,
as it generally is, with the approbation of rea-
fon ana confcience, declaring it to be a virtuous
affeftion, produftive of fignal benefit to fociety,
and peculiarly fuitable to our condition, ho*
I 3 nourabh
i^» O N P O E T R y
^ourabie to our nature, and amiable in the ey^e^-
of our fellow-creatures *.
Since Imitation is. fo plentiful a fource of plea-
fore, we need not wonder, that the imitative art$
.©£ poetry and painting Ihould have been greatly
cfteeqed in evei:y enlightened age. The imitation,
itfclf, which is the work of the artift, is agree-
able ; the thing imitated, which is nature, is alfa
agreeable ; and is not the fame thing true of the
inftrument of imitation ? Or does any one doubt»
Na;rhethcr harmonious language be pleafing to the
car, or certain arrangements of colour beautiful^
fo the eye ?
Shall 1 apply t^iefe, and the preceding reafon-
ings, to the mufical Art alfo, which I have clfe*
where called, and which is generally underftood
to be, Imitative? Shall I fay, that fome melo-t
dies pleafe, becaufe they imitate nature, and that
others,, which do not imitate nature, are there^
fore; unpleafing? — tha^ an air expreffiye of de*
vction, for example, is agreeable, becaufe it pre-
sents us with an imitation of thofe founds by.
which devotion does naturally exprefs itfelf ?—
^Jich an affirmation would hardly pafs upon the
reader ; notwithftanding the plaufibility it might;
fbem to derive from that analogy which all the;
fine arts are fuppofed to bear to one another.
-Jle would afk. What is the natural found of
_ * Since thefe remarks were written, Dr. Campbell has pub-
I'fhed a very accurate and ingenious dilTertation oh this rubje6t,
jSee his Fbilo/opby of Rhetoric ^ voU i,
devotion ?.
A K D MUSIC. 119
<dt^otioa ? Where is it to be heard ? When was
it heard ? What rcfembUnce is there between
iiandel's Te Denm^ and the tone of voice natural
$i^ a perfon expreOiag, by articulate found, his
veneration of the Divine Charafter and Provi-
dence ? — 19 fact, I apprehend, that criucs have
erred a Uttk in .their determinations upon this
ibbje^i:^ from an opinion, that Mufic, Painting,
j|0d Poetry, are all imitative arts. I hope at leaft
I n3ay fay, without oSence, that while this was
^y opinion, J was always confcious of feme un-
accountable confuGon erf" thought, whtrnever I at-
tempted JO explain it in the way of detail to
ptbers.
But while I thus infinuateo that Mufic is not
an imitative art, I mean no difrefpeft to Ariftotle,
who feenjs in the beginning of his Poetics to de-
.^rlare the contrary. It is not the whole, but the
greater p^rf of mufic,* which that pbilofopher
.calls Imitative ; and I agree with him fo far as to
i^illow this property to fome mufic, though not to
all. But he fpcaks of the ancient mufic, and I
,qf the modern -, and to one who confiders how
yery little we know of the former, it will not
appear a contradidtign to fay, that the one might
Jiave been imitative, though the other is not.
Nor do I mean any difrefpeS to mufic, when I
^ould ftrike it off the lift of imitative arts, I
jallow it; to b.e a fine ^rt, and to have great in-
0uenc^onthe human foul: I grant, that, by its
power of raifing ^ variety of agreeable emotions
}n the hearer^ it proves its rejatioo to poetry, and
I 4 that
I20 ON POETRY
that it never appears to the beft advantage but
with poetry for its interpreter : and I am fatis-
fied, that though mufical genius may fubfift
without poetical tafte, and poetical genius with-
out mufical tafte; yet thefe two talents united
might accomplilh hobler effefts, than either could
do fingly. I acknowledge too, that the prin-
ciples and effential rules of this art are a^s really
founded in nature, as thofe of poetry and paint-
ing. But when I am afked. What part of nature
is imitated in any good pifture or poem, I find-
I can give a definite anfwer: whereas, when I
am aflced, What part of nature is imitated in
Handel's V/attr-mufic^ for inftance, or in Corelli's
eighth concerto^ or in any particular Englifh fong
or Scotch tune, I find 1 can give no definite an-
fwer : — though no doubt I might fay feme plau-
fible things ; or perhaps, after much refinement,
be able to fiiow, that Mufic may, by one fhift
or other, be made an imitative, art, provided you
allow me to give any m.eaning I pleafe to the
word imitative.
Mufic is imitative, when it readily puts one in
mind of the thing imitated. If an explanation be
neceffary s and if, after all, we find it difficult to
recognife any exa£t fimilitude, I would not call
fuch mufic an imitation of nature ; but confider
it as upon a footing, in point of likenefs, with
thofe pictures, wherein the aftion cannot be
known but by a label proceeding from the mouth
of the agent, nor the fpecies of animal afcertained
without a nam^e written under it. But between
imitation
A N D M U S I C; 121
imitation in mufic and imitation in painting, there
is this one cflTential difference :— a bad pifture is
always a bad imitation of nature, and a good pic-
ture IS neceffarily a good imitation ; but mufic
may be exaftly imitative, and yet intolerably
bad ; or not at all imitative, and yet perfeftly
good." I have heard, that the Pafiorale in the
eighth' of Corelli's Coficertos {\^\\\ch. appears by the
infcription to have been compofed for the nio-ht
of the. Nativity) was intended for an imitation of
the fong of angels hovering above the fields of
Bethlehem, and gradually foaring up to heaven.
The mufic, howi^ver, is not fuch as v/ould of
itfelf convey this idea : and, even with the help
of the commentary, it requires a lively fancy to
conneft the various movements and melodies of
the piece with the motions and evolutions of the
heavenly hoft ; as fometimes flying oif, and fbme-
times returning ; finging fometimes in one quar-
ter of the Iky, and fometimes in another ; now
in one or two parts, and now in full chorus. It
is not clear, that the author intended any imita-
tion V and Vr'hether he did or not, is a matter of
no confeauence; for the mufic will continue to
pleafe, when tHe tradition is no more remem-
beitd. The harmonics of thh pr^Jicrale are indeed
fo uncommon, and fo ravi(hingly fweet, that it is
almoft impoffible not to think of heaven v/hen/
one hears them. I would not call them imitaf
tive J but 1 believe they are finer than any imita-^^
tive mufic in the world, \
Sounds
121 0 N P p E T R V
Sounds in tbemielves can imitate nothing 4i^
fe£tly but ibunds, nor in their motions any thing
but motionsii But the natural founds and mo^-
jtions that mu£c is allowed to imitate, are but few.
I^or, firft, th^y muft all be confiftent y^i^h the
fundaipental principles of the art, and not re-
pugnant either to melody or to harmpny. J^ow^
fhe foundation of all true mufic, and the mofj:
perfeft of all mufical inllruments, is the huniari
voice ^ which is therefore the prototype of th^
jnufical fcale, and a ftandard of mufical found,
J^oifes, therefore, and inharmonious notes of
^very kind, which a good voice cannot utter
yrithout draining^ ought to be excluded froin
{this pleafing art : for it is impofiible, that tho^
yocal founds which require any unnatural efforts^
either of t4ie fingej: or fppaker, Ihowld pyer give
permanent gratification to the hearpr. I fay,
jperm^n^nt gratification •, for J djeny not^ that th^
pre^rnatural fcreams of an Italian ui^ger may oc*
cafion furprife, and ipomentary amufpment : but
tbpfc fcreams are not muficj they are admired,
not for their propriety or pathos, but, like rope-
dancing, and the eating of fire, merely becauip
they are uncommon iind difficult-r-Befides, tho
end of all genuine mufic is, to introduce into the
^uman mind certain affedions, or fufceptibiKtieq
of aff^ion. Now, all the aflfeftions, oyer which
mufic has any power, arc of (he agreeable kind.
And therefore, in this art, no imitations of na-
tural found or motion, but fuch as tend to in*
fpire agreeable affcdions, ought ever |o find a
olace*
A N P M U S I C; f 2j
place. The fong of certain birds, the murmur of
^ ftream, the (houtsof multitud^s^ the tumult of
a ftorm, the roar of thunder, or a chime of
l^ells, are founds connedcd with agreeable or f^-
blJme aflfeftions, and reconcileable both with m»i
iody and with harmony j and may therefore ba
imitated, when the artift has occafion for them :
but the crowing of cocks, the barking of dogSp
|h€ mewing of cats, the grunting of fwine, the
gabbling of gcefe, the cackling of a hen, thf
|)raying of an afs, the creaking of a faw, or the
rumbling of a cart-wheel, would render the bcft
mufic ridiculous. The movement of a dance
^ay be imitated, or the ftately pace of an eiH-
^attled legion; but the; hobble of a trotting Iiorfe
yvould be intolerable.
There b another fort of imitation by found,
y?hich ought never tp be heard, or feen, in mu-»
fiQ. To cxpfefs the local elevation of objedts by
Y?ha^ w^ qail high notes, and their dcpreffion by
bw or deep notes, has no more propriety in it,
than any other pun. fFe call notes high or low^
In refpedl of thipir fuiiation in the written fcale.'
There would haye been no abfurdity in expreffing
$hc higheft notes by xharaiiers placed at the bot-
tom of the Icale or mufical line, and the lowcft
Botes by charafters placed at . the top of it, if
fqftpm had fo determined. And there is reafon
to think, that fomething like this adually ob*
tatned in the mufical fcale of the ancients* Ac
teaft it is probable, that the dcepeft or gravcft
|bund was called Summa by the Romans, and the
(hrilleft
124 ONPOETRY '
flirillcd or acutell Tma-, which might be owing to
the conftruftion of their inftrumencs ; the Itring
that founded the former being perhaps higheft ia
place, and that which founded the latter lowed.
—Yet fome people would think a fong faulty^
if the word heaven was fct to what we call a Jovj
note, or the word hell to what we call a -^higb
one.
All thefe forts of illicit imitation have been
pradifed, and by thofetoo from whom better
things were expected. This abufc of a noble art
did net tkapc the f^tirc of Swift; who, though
deaf to rhc criarms of mufic, was not blind to
the abuirdiiy of mulkians, lie reconiaicnded it
to Dr. Lc^/iin, an ingenious gentleman of Ire-
land, to coi-npofe z ^Cantata in ridicule of this
puerile mimicry. Here we have moiiohs imitated,
v/hich are the moft inharmonious, and the leaft
connected with human affections ; as the fretting^
amblings and ^^2//^^/;.;^, of Pegafus ; and /v/./z/iV the
niofl: unmufical, as crackUrg and. jr;i\: clings and
rough royficring ruftic rQ^.ri'g Jtrcins : the words
high and deep have high and deep notes fet to
them 5 a ferles of-ihort nores of equal lengths
are introduced, to imitate jhivcnug and flecking ;
an irregular rant of quick founds, to exprefs
ramblhig •, a fudden rife of the voice, from a low
to a high pitch, to denote flying ahcje the Jky ;
a 'ridiculous run of chromatic divifions on the
words Cclia dies -, with other droll contrivances of
a like nature. In a word. Swift's Cantata alone
may convince any perlbn, that muQc uniformly
imitative
A N D M U S I C. 125
imitative would be ridiculous. — I juft obferve in
pafling, that the fatire of this piece is levelled,
not 'at abfurd imiranon only, but alfo at fome
other mufical improprieties ^ fuch as the idle re-
petition of the fame words, the running of long
extravagant divifions tipon one fyllable, and the
fetting of v.^ords to mufic that have no meaning.
If I were entitled to fuggeft any rules in this
art, I would humbly propofe (and a great mu-
fician and ingenious writer feems to be of the
fame mind *), that no imitation fhould ever be
introduced into mufic purely inftrumental. Of
vocal melody the exprelHon is, or ought to be,
afcertained by the poetry -, but the expreluon of
the beft inftrumental mufic is ambiguous. . In
this, therefore, there is nothing to lead the mind
of the hearer to recognife the imitation, which,
though both legitimate and accurate, would run
the rifle of being overlooked and loft. If, again,
it were fo very exadl:, as to lead our thoughts in-
ftantly to the thing imitated, we fhculd be apt
to attend to the imitation only, fo as to remain
infcnfible to the general effeft of the piece. In a
word, I am inclined to think, th.u imitation in an
inftrumental concerto would produce either no
effcft, or a bad one. The fame reaf.ns would
exclude it from inftrumental j^/^j- ; provided they
were fuch as deferve to be called n)ufic : — if vp.ty
be contrived only to fnow the dexterity of the
performer, imitations and all pofi^ible varieties
* Avif-non Mufical Expreflion, p, 5;. Co kzovA edit.
cf
Ui O N ^ 6 E T k Y
of found, may be thrown in ad iibitumy any tKiii^
will do, that can aftoni(h the audience; but to
&ch fiddling or fingering I would nd more give
Ihe honourable name of Mufic; than I would ap-.
ply that of Poetry to Pope's " Fluttering fpread
^* thy purple pinions," or to Sivift's Ode oii
DUion and IVhifim.
In vocal HMi fie, truly fuch, the words render'
the expreflion determinate, and fix the hearer's
attention upon k. Here therefore legitimate
imitations may be employed ; both becaufe the
fubje£t of the fong will render them intelligible^
wd becaufe the attention of the hearer is ih^nd
danger of being feduccd froni the principal air.
Yet even here, thefe imitations muft be laid up*
tn the inftrumental accompaniment^ and by nd
means attempted by the finger, unlefs they are
cxpreffive, and mufical, and may be eafily ma-
naged by the voice. In the fong^ which is the
principal part, expreflion fhould be predominant,
and imitations never ufed at all, eiccept to aflift
the expreflion. Be fides, the tones of the human
voice, though the moft pathfctic of all founds,
ftre not fuited to the quirks of ^mitative melody^
which will generally appear to beft advantage on
ah iaftrumerit. In the firft part of that excellent
fong, *' Hide me from day's gairifh eye^
<« While the bee with honey*d thigh " At her
** flowery work does Cng, " And the waters
*< deep murmuring, " With fuch concert as
** they keep, " Intice the dewy feathered fleep.**
—-Handel imitates the murmur of groves and
waters
AND UV St C. tif
ikitet^ by the accompaniment of tendrs: kf
another fong of the fame Oratorio^ " Oft a plaC
•« of riOng ground, " I hear the far-off curfew
•* found, " Over fome widc-watcr'd (hore,
« Swinging flow with fulkn roar," — he makes
the barfe imitate the evening-bell: in anothei'
fine fong, ** Hufh, ye preccy warbling choir,'*—
he accompanies the voice with a flageolet that
Imitates the finging of birdis : in the " Sweet
•« bird that (hun'fl: the noife of folly," the chief
accompaniment is a German flute imitatkig oc-
Gafionally the notes of the nightingale.-^Some<*
times, where expreflion and imitation happen to
coiiKide, and the latter is eafily managed by the
voice, he makes the fong itfelf imitative. Thus,
in that fong, " Let the merry bells ring round,
*' And the jocund rebecks founds " To many
** a youth and many a maid,'** Dancing in the
•* chequer'd fliade," — he makes the roicc in the
beginning imitate the found of a chin^e of bells^
and in the end the mothn and gaiety of a dance*
Of thcfe imitations no body will queftion the
propriety. But Handel, notwithftanding his in-^ *
exhaufl:ible invention, and wonderful talents in
the fublime and pathetic, is fubjeft to fits of
trifling, and frequently errs in. the application of
his imitative contrivances. In that fong " What
« paflion cannot mufic raife and quell,*' when
he comes to the words, " His liftening brethrei^
** ftood around, *• And wondering on their faces
** /?//,"— the accompanying violoncello falls tud*
denly from- a quick and iigb movement to a
very
128 ON POETRY
very deep and long note. In another fong of the
fame piece*, '* Sharp violins proclaim *^ Their
" jealous pangs and defperation, *• Fury, frantic
*' indignation, '*^ Depth of pains and height of
** palTjon, " For the fair difdaiaful dame •/* — the'
words " Depth of pains and height of pafHon/'
are thrice repeated to different keys-, and the
notes of the firft claufe are conftantly deep^ and
thofe of the fecond as regularly high. The poet
however is not lefs blameable than the mufician.
— And many other examples of the fame kind
jiiigh: be produced from the works of this great
artifti-.
What has been faid may ftrve to flio'w both
the extent, and the merit of Imitative Mufic: t.
It extends to thofe natural founds and motions
onlv, which, are aD:reeable in themfelves, con-
fiftent with, mdody and harmony, and affociated
with . .agreeable aftedtions and fentiments. Its me-
rit is To inconfiderable, that mufic purely inftru-
Kiental is rather hurt than improved by it-, and
^ *.Dfyden's Ode on St. Cecilia's ^ay. .. ;
• 'I' That pretty paHoral ode of Snakefpeare, *^ V^hen daifl-es
** pied and violets blue," has b<:ea Tct to nitrik hy Mr. Lever-
idge; who makes the (inf^er imitate, not orjy the note of the
cuckoo (which may be allowed, bccaiife eafiSy performed, and
perfedly mulicai), but alfo the Ihriclc 6f the owl,
X By Imitative Mufic I muft always be urcerftocd to mean,
that which imitates natural founds and moiions. Fugues, and
crhcr fnnilar contrivances, which, like tehees, repeat or imitate
panicular porticns of the HiClcdy, it belongs not to this place to
confiJcr,
' ' 9 vocal
A N D M U S I C. 1:9
vocal mufic employe it only as a help to the ex*
preilion, * except in feme rare cafes, where the
imitation is itfelf expreflivc as well as agreeable,
and at the fame time within the power of the hu-
man voice.
The bed: mafters lay it down as a maxim, that
melody and harmony are not to be deferred, even
for the fake of expreflTion* itfelf*. Expreflion
that is not confident with thefe is not mufical ex*
preifion ; and a compofer who does not render
them confident, violates the eflential rules of his
art f. If we compare Imitation with Expreflion,
the
* Avifon on Mafical expreOion, page ^S*-
t Harmony and Melody are as eflential to genuine mufic, as
perfpedtive is to painting. However folicitous a painter may be
tf^ive exprefiion to the figures in his back ground, he muft not
ft^cngthen their colour, nor define their outlines. To as to hurt
the perfpe^ive by bringing them too near. A mufician mud
be equally careful not to violate the harmony of his piece,
in order to heighten, the pathos. There is like wife in poetry
ibmething analogous to this. In thofe poems that require a re*
gular and uniform verfification, a poet may perhaps, in fome
rare inllances, be allowed to break through the rules of his
verfe» for the fake of rendering his numbers more emphatlcal.
Milton at lead is intitled to t^ike fuch a liberty :
■ ■ Eternal wrath
Burn'd after then to the bottomlefs pit. Ptarad, Lojl.
And Virgil s
Proluit iniino contorquens vorticc fyl? as ' -
, Fluviorum rex Eridanus.—^-* Gtmr^ U
And
"i^ O' W P O E T R t
the fopcriority of thc^ ktter will be evident.
Imitation witliotit Eirpreffioiv 19- nothing : lmt»^
tion decriinemal to Exprefllon is^ faulty : Imkor
tion* is never tolerable, at lead in (erious* nuifiCy
except it promote and be fubfervient to ExpF&l^
fioR. If then the higheft excellence may be at-
tained in inflrunten^t t»ufic, without imitatioiv v
and' if, even in vocal mufic, in^ica^ion have only
a fecondary merit -^ it mud follom^^. that the imi^
tatk>n of nature, is noteflentialto this art ; tbooghr
fem6time^ whto judicioufly employed, it may be
ornamental.
Different pafTions and fentiments do indeed
give different tones and accents to the human
voice. But can the tones of the moft pathetic
melody be faid to bear a refemblance to the voice
a£ £i( man or woman fpeaking fi'om fehe impulie of
paffion ?— The Jlat key^ or minor m^dt^ is fbond
to be wiill adapted to a mdancholy fdbjedi: ; and, '
And Homer t
A(« f^if CKTittd'o; Jxdc (fotwni Ojx^^(/xov ty^o^t Iliad' Hi.
But the(b licences muil not be too glaring : And therefore 1
know not whether Dyer is not blameable for giving us, in order
to render his numbers imitative, a Trochaic verfe of four feet
and a half^ inllead of an Iambic of five :
The pilgrim ofc
At dead of night, midfl his oraifon hears
Aghall the voice of Time ; dilf arting towers
Tumhling all prtcipitate^ down dafifdf
Kattling arottod» &c. Ruint tfRomi.
if
A *N D MUSIC. 1,^1
tf I wei;^ diJjpofcd to refine upon the imitative
quaiifies. o£ the art, I would give this for a rea*
foii^ that melancholy^ by deppeiSog the fpirits^.
voakens the voice, and makes it rife rather by
mimr ibirds^, which confiA of but four femitones,.
thaa by major thirds^ wiuch confift of five* But
is not this reafon more fobde than folid? Are*
diere not melancholy air^ in the Jbarp key^ and
chcarftil ones in the flat^ ? Nay, in the fame ait*,
do we not often meet with a tranfition from the
one key to the other, without any fenfible change
m the exprefiion B
Goura^ is apt to vent itfelf in a firong tone of
voice : but can no mufical drains infpire forti-
tilde) but fuck 39 ar^ fqnorous? The Lacede-
iMpians did not think fo ; otherwife they would
not shave ufed the mufic of foft pipes wbenad-
vancij^ to battle *• If it be objeAe4 that the
firm deliberate valour^ which the Spartan mufic
was intended ta infpire, doca not expreis itfelf in
» b|luflering, but ratl^r in a gentle accent, re«
fenib^g the mufic of foft pipes, I would pe*
comnseod it to the obje<5bor to chufe, from all the:
mufic he \% aequ^nted with, fuch an air as he
thinks would DK>ft efiedtually awaken his cou-
TdBg^\ and then confider, how far that animating
i^aift can be £iid tnnk nefemble the accent of a
comnDasder cqmplimenting bis troops a£tef a vic-
tory, or enoouraging them before it. Shak^
fyc9xcfgtsk% of the ^^ j^irit-ftirring drum •,'' and
* ^f Itu GeUiiii| lih* u cap« 1 1.
K 2 a moft
132 ON POETRY
a mod emphatical epithet it mufl: be allowed to
be. But why does the drum excite courage ? Is
it hecsLuk tht found imitates the voice of a va-
liant man ? or does the mofion of the drumfticks
bear any (imilitude to that of his legs or arms ?
Many Chriftians (I wifli I could fay all) know
to their happy experience, that the tones of the
organ have a wonderful power in raifing and
animating devout affedions. But will it be faid,
that there is any refcmblance between the found
of that noble initrument, or the fineft compofi-
tions that can be played on it, and the voice
of a human creature employed in an a6l of wor^
(hip?
One of the moft affecting ftyles in mufic is
tlie Pajloral, Some airs put us in mind of the
coun ry, of " rural fights and rural founds,**
and difpofe the heart to that chearful tranquiUi-
ty, that pleafing melody, that " vernal delight,"
which groves and dreams, flocks and herds, hills
and vallies, infpife. But of what are thefe pa-
ftoral airs imitative? Is it of the murmur of wa-
tcrs, the warbling of groves, the lowing of herds,
die bleating of flocks, or the echo of vales and
mountains ? Many airs are paftoral,. which imi-
tate none pf thefe things. What then do they
^ imitate ?-— the fongs of ploughmen, milkmaids,
and (hepherds ? Yes : they are fuch, as we think
we have beard, or might have heard, fung by
the . inhabitants of the country. Then they mufl:
refemble country-rfongs ; and if fo, thefe fongs
mull alfo be in the pafl:oral ftyle. Of what then
art
AND M U S I C. 133
arc thcfe countiy-fongs, the fuppofcd archetypes
of paftoral mufic, imitative i h it of other coun-
try-fongs ? This Ihifts the difficulty a ftep
backward, but does not take it away. Is it of
rural founds, proceeding from things animated,
or from things inanimate ? or of rural motions
of men, beafts, or birds ? of winds, woods, or
waters ? — In a! word, an air may be paftoral, and
in the higheft degree pleaiing, which imitates
neither found nor motion, nor any thing clfe
whatever.
After all, it muft be acknowledged, that there
is fome relation at lead, or analogy, if not fimili^
tude, between certain mufical founds, and men-
tal affeftions. Soft mufic may be confidcrcd as
analogous to gentle emouons ; and loud mufic, if
the tones are fweet and not too rapid, to fublime
ones ; and a quick fucceffion of noify notes, like
thofe we hear from a drum, feems to have fome
relation to hurry and impctuofity of paflion.
Sometimes, too, there is from nature, and fome*
times there comes to be from cuftom, a connec*
tion between certain mufical inftruments, and
certain places and occafions. Thus a flute,
hautboy, or bagpipe, is better adapted to the
purpofes of rural mufic, than a fiddle, organ,
or harpfichord, becaufe more portable, and lefs
liable to injury from the weather : thus an organ,
on account both of its fize and loudnefs, requires
to be placed in a church, or fome large apart-
ment: thus violins and violoncellos, to which
any degree of damp may prove hurtful, are na-
K 3 turally
tig* ON P O E T1R Y
iiatufatly adapted to dotnefttc ufe; ^white drums
«nd trumpets, fi£bs ind french-horns, aure better
(foitedto the fervice cf the fieJd. Herice it h^
))nens, that vpartictilar tones* and modes of muQc
acquire fuch a connedbion with particular peaces,
otcafions, and feMittieilfs, that ify 'hearing the
farmer ive are put in tftind of the latter, (b tts to
be^ffcfted ivith them iftore or'kfs, according to
tte circumftances. The found of an organ, for
5e!xam^le, puts one in mind of a church, ind of
the affedtions fuitable to that place; military
tnutic, of niilftary ideas; andiluies ^nd hautboys,
iif the thoughts ahd im^es ^pectiliar to rurd life.
Thfe may ferve in part eo account for mofical^ex-
prcfiivenefs ordSicat^; that is, to explain how it
{iomes to pafs, that certain paffions are raifed, or
tertjaln'iddas fuggefted, by certain ki nek df mufic:
but (his doe$ not ^prove mufic to -be «n itbrtatr?^
*i»t, 'inthefeme fet>fc in which painting and poetry
^Ye ^tailed inttCfttlve. For between a ptfture atf^
ite»origin«il; •betwcentheideas fuggcfted by a pbe-
Tit?aldercriptioii*Artd'f*ic otgefts dcfcribed, there is
& ftriftfimilitude: but' between Tbft tnufic ahd a
crilm temper there is ho ftrift fimiiitude 5 a'nd
between the found -of a drum or of ati prgan and
the tffFeftion of -cbura'ge or of devotidn, between
fht mufic of flutes and a paiflroral life, between' a
conceJ-t t)f 'iriolins and a theatful conipany, there
is only aitaccidental conhbftion, formed by cuftom,
4ttd*fouttded father on the nature of the ihftrui-
ments, than on that of the mufic.
it ftrmy perhaps be stbongbr, itbt^c mao ifi^mfid
.tcfing by imiiating tbe .birds; af^ .ihevefpre, 4^
^ifooaliinuficds jallowcd/tOihave^Men the protoQfjpe
.of ii^rumentftU Ibac Ae^whole <art.muft >h^ye boep
.€iS^tHifL]ijf imf^Wfi. G»ifi(iQg:c|^ faA, this only
H(ve could inler from 4(9 ihjit tbe art was imicadvp
9t)firft: but that it ooptinnes tobe^fi), does nqt
ibUow.; for it cannot be fa^^ either tbf^t the %j|p
of our mulic refembles that of birdS) or thato^r
rimifical compofers .make she fong of birds (the
•model of their cotnpofitiofis. -But it is vain tp
.ai^ue from bj^potbefia: #mi 'the i^St before us,
•though iaken for .gnar^ ^ fome autbpn, k
^eititute 'Of evidence, Andrplainly ^bfurd. JH)ow
<cafl it be imagined, that mniilcind l^rnedrtp fing
rby tmitatiog the ieatheied ira^e^ ;I would 4is ibop
fuppofe, that we learned ta/f^nk by imitating t^
ineigh-of a.boefe, orto.tvifaik 'by obfervi^g tbe po-
rtion of fiCbes in water ; -or ihu ib^ ppliticil
<.Qo«ftitution <>f QreAt Stictm ^^.fArmi^d uponftiNp
•plan of an ant hillock. Eveiy muGctan, ;wbo i^
.but modera^ly inilrii4^in (be rpinnciplf s qi hifi
^art, JcDfiws, and c^n zpreve^ 'that, in the ^/brq^
.fef^ifs at^teaft, :ihe :divi&)ns r/?f tbe difttCHjic fc»fe
wjii^jis ibc ftaodafd'Of huaiafi mgQ$« ^aie no ar-
fCifikciil.-CQntrivanc^, :^bMt ii^^ a^pctal/o^^dia^ionifi
mwit: bi>t!tbe ftngVngof'birjh, if we:'exoept trhfc
.t:iickoojHid oneor-t/wO'tppF^y^is not reducible to
that fcale, nor to any other that ^fis <r¥9r: inveMe^l
.by man j for birds divcrfify their notes by intervals
which the human organs cannot imitate without
unnatural efforts, and which therefore it is not to
K4 be
1 36 O N P O E T R Y
be fuppofed that human art will ever attempt to
exprefs by written fymbols. In a word, it iis plain,
that nature intended one kind of mufic for men,
and another for birds : and we have no more rea-
Ton to think, that the former was derived by imi-
tation from the latter, than that tile nefts of sl
rookery were the prototype of the Gothic Archi-
tefture, or the combs in a bee-hive of the Gre-
cian.
Mufic, therefore, is pleaQng, not becaiife it is
imitative, but becaufe certain melodies and har-
monies have an aptitude to raife certain paiTions,
affections, and fentiments in the foul. And, con*
fequently, the pleafures we derive from melody
and harmony are feldom or never refolvable into
that delight which the human mind receives from
the imitation of nature.
All this, it may befaid, is but ^ difpute about
a word. Be it fo: but it is, notwithftanding, a
difpute fomewhat material both to art and to
fcience. It is material, in fcience, that philofo-
phers have a determined meaning to their words,
and that things be referred to their proper clafies.
And it is of importance to every art, that its de-
fign and end be rightly underftood, and that ar-
tifts be not taught to believe that to be eflentid
to it, which is only adventitious, often imperti-
nent, for the mbft part unncceflary, and at beft
but ornament^.
SECT.
A N D M U S I C 137
SECT. II.
Hew are the fkafures we derive from Mufic to be
accounted for ?
IT was faid, that certain melodies and harmo-
nies have an aptitude to raiie certain paflionSj
affcdions, and fentiments, in the human foul.
Let us now enquire a little into the nature of
this aptitude^ by endeavouring, from acknow-
ledged principles of the human conftitution, to
explain, the caufe of that pleafure which man*
kind derive from mufic* I ;im well aware of the
delicacy of the argument, and of my inability to
do it juftice j and therefore I promife no com-
plete inveftigation, nor indeed any thing more
than a few curfory remarks. As 1 have no theo-
ry to fupport, and as this topic, though it may
amufe, is not of any great utility, I fhall be
neither poiitive in my aflertionst nor abftrufe m
my reafoning.
The vulgar diftinguifli between the fenfe of
hearing, and that faculty by which we receive
pleafure from mufic, and which is commonly
called a mufical ear. Every body knows, that to
hear, and to have a relifli for melody, are two
different things % and that many perfons have the
firft in perfedion, who are deftitute of the laft.
The laft is indeed, like the firft, a gift of nature ;
^nd may, like other natural gifts, languifh if ne-
glcfted
n j8 ON P O E T a y
gledled, and improve exceedingly if exercifed.
And though every perfon who hears, might no
doubt, by inftpuftion and long experience, be
made fenfible of the mufical properties of found,
fo far as 't6 'be in feme meafupe gratified wrth
good mufic and drfgu'ftcd. with bad j yet both his
pain and his plcafure would be very different in
icind and degi^e, from that vi^hich is conveyed by
<i true miificjtl ear.
1. Does not part of the pfcafeire, both of me-
lody and of harmony, arife from the very * na-
xurpoi the notes that compofe it ? Certain inar-
*tkukte founds, efpecially when cominued, .pro-
tluce very 'pleafing efftr6ts on the mind. They
ftem to withdraw the attention from the more
tumultuous concerns of life, and, without -agi-
tating the foul, to pour gradually upon it a train
T)f fofier ideas, that fometimes lull and fbothe the
faculties, amd fometimes quicken fenfi-bility, and
ftimulate -the imagination. -Nor is itabfurdto
Tuppofe, that the human body may be mechani-
cally afitfted by them. If in a churchone feels
the floor, and the pew, tremble to certain tones
of the organ ; if one firing vibrates of its t)wn
^accord when another is founded ncirr it of equd
length, tenfion, and thickncfs ; if a perfon who
fneezes, or fpeaks loud, in the neighbourhood
of a harpfichord, often hears the ftrings. of the
iriftrument murmur in the fame tone; we need
not wonder, that fome of the finer fibres of the
human frame thould be put in z tremulous mo-
tion, when they happento be in unifon with any
' 4 notes
A N D M O S 1 C r^^
fiotds pfdceeSitig from €xrerna(l clbj^dlft. That^rer--
tain bodily pains might be alleviated by certain
founds, was bcAfeved by the Gieelos and Romans :
and ^e have it on the bcft .autboriry, that one
fpecies at le^ft of madnefswas once ouritbleby me*
lody*. I have feen «ven inftrumenul mufic of
lietle aiq^refiion draw teans from thofe who bad
fio-knowledge of the art, nor any ^particular relilh
for it. Nay, a friend of <mine, <who is profoundly
IkiMed in the theory of mufic, well acquainted with
«he animal economy, and Angularly accurate ia
bis 'inquiries into nature, afiures me, that he hai
Jbeen^once and again wrought into a feverifh fit by
(he tones of an Eolian harp. Thefe, and other
fimilar fafbs that might be mentioned, are not
eafily accounted for, ^unlefs we fuppofe, that cer«
^i'n founds mayhave a mechanicaUnfiuence upon
ceNuiin^rts of'the hUftian body.* — ^Bc that however
as ^it will, it admits of -no doubt, that 4:be mind
diay be agreeably affe^d by* mere found, in which
ihefsie is neither mean^iQg'nor ^nodulatioti-, not only
by the t6nes of the Eoiian harp, and^ther mufical
tnftrmnetits, but ahb by .the murmur of winds,
groves, ^nd waterfalls f ^ nay by the fli6uts of
muhitudes, by the upnoar of the oceain in a (torm*,
imd, when one can liften to it without fear, by
* Pirft hdok of Samuel, chap. xvi. verfl 23.
f Quae tibi« qns tali reddaxn pro carmine dona f
Nam neque me tantum venientis fibrins attflri.
Nee rpercufTa juvant flu€la -tarn licttfra, B«C'qQc
Saxofai inter decurrunt flaaiiaa valici* Fir:g. ^'^* 5*
that
I40 ONPOETRY
that " deep and dreadful organ-pipe J," the thun-
der itfelf. f
Nothing is more valued in a muficll inftrument
or performer, than fweetnefs, fullnefs, and variety
of tone. Sounds are difagreeable, which hurt the
ear by their Ihrillnefs, or which cannot be heard
without pairiful attention on account of their
exility. But loud and mellow founds, like thofc
of thunder, of a ftorm, and of the full organ,
elevate the mind through the ear ; even as vail
magnitude yields a pleafurable aftonilhmenr, when
contemplated by the eye. By fuggefting the idea
of great power, and fometimes of great expanfioo
too, they excite a pleafing admiration, and feem
to accord with the lofty genius of that foul whole
chief dcfire is for truth, virtue, and immortality^
and the objed of whofe moft delightful meditation
is the greateft and beft of Beings -{-. Swettnefs of
tone, and beauty of fhape and colour, produce a
placid acquiefcence of mind, accompanied with
fome degree of joy, which plays in a gentle fmilc
upon the countenance of the bearer and beholder.
Equable founds, like fmooth and level furfaccs, are
in general more pleafing than fuch as are rough,
pneven, or interrupted 5 yet, as the flowing curve,
fo eflfential to elegance of figure, and fo confpicuous
in the outlines of beautiful animals, is delightful
to the eycifo notes gradually fwelling^ and^r^j-
t Shakefpcar*« Teinpeft.
+ See LongiQus, j(e£^. 34. Spe^lator, No. 413. Plea fares of
ImaginatioDy book i. veif. 151. &c,
/ dually
A N D M U S I C. ,41
dually dec (tying, have an agreeable effeft on the car,
and on the giind ; the former tending to roufc the
faculties, and the latter to compofe them; the one
promoting gentle exercife, and the other reft.
But of all founds, that which makes its way
moft direftly to the human heart, is the human
voice : and thofe inftruments that approach near-
eft to it are in expreffion the moft pathetic, and
in tone the moft perfedt. The notes of a man's
Voice, well tuned and well managed, have 'a
mellownefs, variety, and energy, beyond thofe of
any inftrument ; and a fine female voice, modu-
lated by fenfibility, is beyond comparifon the
iweeteft, and moft melting found, in art or na-
ture. Is it not ftrange, that the moft mufical
people upon earth, dilTatisfied, as it would feem,
with both thcfe, ftiould have incurred a dreadful
reproach, in order to introduce a third'fpecies of
vocal found, that has not the perfedion of either ?
For may it not be affirmed with truth, that no
perfon of uncorrupted tafte ever heard for the firft
time the mufic I allude to, without feme degree
of horror; proceeding not only from the difa-
greeable thoughts fuggefted by what was before
his eyes, but alfo from the thrilling fharpnefs of
tone that ftartled his ear ? Let it not be faid, that
by this abominable expedient, chorufcs are ren-
dered more complete, and melodies executed,
which before were impracticable. Nothing that
flibcks humanity ought to have a place in human
art ; nor can a gocd ear be gratified with unna*
tural found, or a good tafte with too intricate
aompofition.
t4« G N F O E T R y
compaGtiom Surely, every, lover of mufic,, a^d
of mankind,., would wilh tx>, iqe a, prafjbic:^ abo-
lifhed which is. in itielf a di%race cq both ; and,^
in its confequences, fo far from being deficable^
that it cannot truly b^ laid ta do apy thing nwrc
than to debafe a. noble ar& into trick and gri-
mace, and make the human breath a vehicle, not
tp human fentimeots,, but to mei^ eopp^ty (ereanii-
ix^ and fqualling.
H* Some notes,, when founded together, bwe
aa agreeabk, and others a difagc-eeabk t&Qt,
The former are c&ncords^ the latter d^fccr^^
When the fl«6kuai|ipna of air produced by two or
more contemporary notes do mucuaUy coincidt^
the efF^ft ift^iwabki when diey mutuaily repel-
each oi?ber,» ^c elfe<^ is difagrccabie. Thefe ccmi^
cidences are not all cqjcjaUy perfipft 5 nor thefe re-
pulfipns equally ftrong: ^d- therefore ail cony-
cords are not equally fwaet,.n0r all difcords equaU
ly harlh- A man unikilled in mufic might ima-
gine, that the moft agreeable harmony * mufl: be
made up of the fweeteft concords, without »fty
mixture of dileord : and in like manner,, a ehiM
might fancy, that a feafl of fweet^meats would,
prove the moft dtjlicious banquet. But both
would be raiftaken. The fame concord may be
more or lefs pleafing, according to its pofition 1
and the fweeter concords often produce their beft
* Mehdj^ in the language of art, 13 the agreeikble effir£t ef a
fingje frriwof mitfical tpnj?s: Uiirmonj \% y^^^ agreeable e^ed^
of two or more feries of moiical tones (bunded at tbe fame
cfFe<a,
A N D M U S I C i4j
ejfeA, ^he» they arc introdaced by the harihcr
oai€s, or tvctk by difcords j for then they arc moft
agreeable, becaufe they give the greateft relief
to £be ear : even as hcakh is doubly delightful
after fickneis, liberty after confinemem, and a
fweet tafte wheiv preceded by a bitter. Dlflb-
muice, therefore, is neceflary ta the perfedion of
harmony.^ Buc cxxifonatKe predominates •, and to
fuchi a degree, that, except on rare occafions, and
by a. nice ear, the difcord in itfelf is hardly per-
ccptihlc,
Muficians have taken pains to difcover the
principles on which concords and difcords are to
be So arrange as to produce the bed effed *, and
have thus brought the whole art of harmony
within the compa(s of a certain number of rules»
fome of which are more^ and others lefs itidiTpen-
&ble« Thefc rules admit not of demonflrativc
proof: for though fome of them may be inferred
by rational deduftion from the very nature of
found V yet the fupreme judg^ of their propriety
is the human ear. They are, however, founded
on obiervation fb accurate and fojuft, that, no
artifl: over thought of calling them in queftion.
RoulTeau indeed fomewhere infinuates^ that habit
and education might give us an equal relilh for a
different fyllem of harmony ; a fentiment which
J ihould not have expe^ed from an author, who
for the moft part recommends an implicit confi-
dence io our natural feelings, and who certainly
tiaderftands hum^an nature well, ^d mufic better
thaa anjT other phiiofopher. That a bafs of fe^
venibs^
144 ONPOETRY
"Octttbs^ or fourths^ or even of fifths^ fhould ever
become fo agreeable to any human ear, as one
conftru6ted according to the fyftem, is to me as
inconceivable, as that Virgil, turned into rugged
profe, would be read and admired as much as
ever. RoufTeau could not mean to extend this
remark to the whole fyftcm, but only to fome of
its mechanical rules : and indeed it muft be al-
lowed, that in this, as well as in other arts, there
are rules which have no better foundation than
falhion, or the pradice of fome eminent compo-
fcr.
Natural fcnfibility is not tafte, though it be
neceflary to it. A painter difcovers both blcmiflies
and beauties in a pidure, in which an ordinary
eye can perceive neither. In poetical language,
and in the' arrangement and choice of words,
there are many nicetiej?, whereof they only arc
confcious who have praftifed verfification, as well
as ftudied the works oi poets, and the rules of the
art. In like manner, harmony muft be ftudied a
little in its principles by every perfon who would
acquire a true relifh for it-, and nothing but
praftice will ever give that quicknefs to his ear
which is neceffary to enable him to enter with
adequate fatisfaftion, or rational diflike, into the
merits or demerits of a mufical performance.
When once he can attend to the progrefs, re-
lations, and dependencies, of the feveral parts;
and remember the paft, and anticipate the fu-
ture, at the fame time he perceives the prefent ;
fo as to be fenfible of the fkill of the compofer,
and
A N D M a S I C. 145
arid dexterity of the performer; — a regular con-
certo, well executed, will yield him high enter-
tainment, even though its regularity be its prin-
cipal recommendation. The pleafure which an
untutored hearer derives from it, is far inferior:
and yet there is fomething in harmony that plca-
fes, and in diflbnance that offends, every ear ;
and were a piece to be played confifting wholly of
difcords, or put together without any regard to
rule, I believe no perfon whatever would liften to
it without great difguft.
After what has been briefly faid of the agree-
fiblt qualities of muiical notes, it will not feem
ftrange, that a piece, either of melody or of
harmony, of little or no exprefllon, Ibould^
when elegantly performed, give fome delight;
not only to adepts, who can trace out the various
contrivances of the compofer, but even to thofc
who have little or no Ikill in this art^ and muft
therefore look upon the whole piece as nothing
more than a combination of pleafing founds.
III. But Pathos, or Exprefllon, is the chirf
excellence of mufic. Without this, it may amufc
the ear, it may give a little exercife to the mind
of the hearer, it may for a moment withdraw the *
attention from the anxieties of life, it may fliow
the performer's dexterity, the flcill of the com-
pofer, or the merit of the inftruments ; and in all
or any of thcfe ways, it may afibrd a flight plea-
fure: But, without engaging the afiedions, it
tan never yield that permanent, ufeful, and heart-
felt gratification, which legiflators, civile milita«
L ry,
145 ON" POETRY
ry, and ecclefiaffiGali have cxpcfted from it. Ts
it abfurd to afcribe utility, snd permanence, to-
the effefts produced by this noble art ? Let me
expatiate a Kttle in its praife. — Did not one of the
"wifefty and leaft votuptaous, of all ancient legi-
flators, give great encouragement to {nu&c*S^'
Does not a moft judiciotis author afcribe the hu*-
manity of the Arcadians t» the influence of this
art, and the barbarity of their neighbours the
Cyncthians to their negleft of itf? Does not
Montefquieu, one of the firft names in modern-
philofophy, prefer it to all other amufements, as
beitig that which fcaft corrupts the foul J? Qui»-
tilian is very copious m the praife of muHc ;
and extols it as an incentive to valour, as an in-
itrument of moral and intellcftual difcipline, as
ah auxiliary to fcience, as an objed of attention
to the wifcft men, and a fource of comfort and
an affiftant in labour^ even to the meaneft|[i
The heroes of ancient Greece were ambitious to
excel in mufic ;, and it is recorded of Thc^ni-
ftocles,. as^ fomething extraordinary, that he wa$
not. Socrates appears to have had checks of
confcience for ncglefting to accomplifh himfclf
in this art j for he tells Cebes, a little before he
fcvallowcd the deadly draught, that, he had all his
life been haunted with a dream, in which one
feemed to fay to him, «• O Socrates, compofe.
*' and praftife mufic >," in- compliance with which
• Lycurgus. See Plutarch. f Polybiua. Hlft. lib.. 4,.
X Efpritdes loix, liv. 4. ch.. 8, {[ iQil.Ordr. lib. i. cap. 8.
S admonitiojQt
A N D M U S I C. 14^
admonition he amufed himfelf while under ieiH
tence of death» with turning feme of iEfop's
fables into verfe, and making a hymn in ho-
nour of Apollo,-«the only fort of harmonious
compofition that was then in his power*. In
armies, mufiC has always been cultivated as 1
fource of pleafure, a principle of regular motion^
and an incentive to valour and enthufiafm.
The Son of Sirach declares the ancient poets and
muficians to be worthy of honour, and ranks them
with the bcnefaftors of mankind +• Nay, Jcfus
Chrift and his apoftles were pleafed to introduce
this art into the Chriftian worlhip i and the church
has in every age followed the. example.
Mufic, however, would not have recommended
itfelf fo effeftually to general efteem, if it had al«
ways been merely inftrumental. For, if I midake
not, the exprefllon of mufic without poetry is
vague and ambiguous ; and hence it is, that the
fame air may fometimes be repeated to every
ftanza of a long ode or ballad. The change of
the poet's ideas, provided the fubjeft continue
nearly the fame, does not always require a change
of the tnixTiC : and if critics have ever determined
otherwife, they were led into the miftake, by
fuppoiing, what every mulician knows to be
abfurd, that, in fitung verfes to a tune, or a
tune to yerfcs, it is more neceffary, that par-
ticular words Ihould have particular noUs adapted
• Plat. PhscJon. fea. 4, t Ecclefiaftlcus, >liv. !•— 8.
L 2 to
148 ONPOETRY
t6 them, than that the general tenor of the mufn:
fliould accord with the general nature of "the fcH-
timcnts.
It is true, that to a favourite air, even when
unaccompanied with wofds, we do commonly an-
nex cettain ideas, which may have come to be
related to it in confequence of fome accidental
aflbciations : and fometimes we imagine a rcfem-
blance (which however is merely imaginary) be-
tween certain melodies and certain thoughts or
objefts. Thus a Scotchman may fancy, that there
is fome fort of likenefs between that charming
air which he calls Tweedfide^ and the fcenery of a
fine paftoral country: and to the fame air, evea
when only played on an inftrument, he may an-
nex the ideas of romantic love and rural tranquil-
lity; becaufe thcfe form the fubjeft o& a pretty,
Kttleode, which he has often heard fiang to that
air. But all this is the cffedt of/h^bit. A fo-^
reigner who hears that tune for the firft time, en-
tertains no fuch fancy. The utmoft we can ex-
pert from him is, to acknowledge the air to be
fweet and fimple. He would fmilc,' if we were
to afk him, whether it bears any refemblance to
the hills, groves, and meadows, adjoining to a
beautiful river •, nor would he perhaps think it
more expreffive of romantic love, than of conju-
gal, parental, or filial affedtion, tender melan*
eholy, moderate joy, or any other gentle paflion.
Certain it is, that on any one of thefe topics an
ode might be compofed, which would fuit the
4 air
A N D M U S I C, 149
4iir moft perfedly. So ambiguous is mufical ex*
preffion.
It is likewife true, that mufic merely inftru-
mental docs often derive fignificancy from ex-
ternal circumftances. When an army in battle-
array is advancing to meet the enemy, words arc
not ncceflary to give meaning to the miliury mu-
fic. And a folemn air on the organ, introducing
or dividing the church-fervice, may not only
elevate the mind, and banifli impertinent thoughts,
but alfo, deriving energy from the furrounding
fcene, may promote religious meditation.
Nor can it be denied, that inftrumental mufic
may both quicken our fenfibility, and give a di-
redion to it 5 that is, may both prepare the mind
for, being affefted, and determine it to one fet
of afFeftions rather than another ; — to melancho-
ly, for inftance, rather than merriment, compo-
fure rather than agitation, devotion rather than
levity, and contrariwife. Certain tunes, too,
there are, which having been always conneftcd
with certain adtions, do, merely from the power
of habit, difpofe m^n to thofe aftions. Such
are the tunes commonly ufed to regulate the mo-
tions of dancing.
Yet it is in general true, that poetry is the
moft immediate and moft accurate interpreter of
Mufic. Without this auxiliary, a piece of the
beft mufic, heard for the firft time, tfiight be
faid to mean fpmething, but we fliould not be
able to fay what. It might incline the heart to
fenfibility: but poetry, or language, would be
L S ncccflfary
I50 ONPOETRY
heceffary to improve that fcnfibility into a real
emotion, by fixing the mind upon fomc definite
andafFcdling ideas. A fine inftrumental fympho-
ny well performed, is like an oration delivered
with propriety, but in an unknown tongue; it
ipay affeA us a little, but conveys no determi-*
nate feeling; we are alarmed, perhaps, or melted,
or foothed, but it is very imperfeftly, becaufe
we know not why ;— ^the finger, by taking up the
fame air, and applying words to it, immediately
tranflates the qratbn into our own language ^
then all uncertainty vaniflies, the fancy is filled
with determinate ide$s, and determinate emotions
take poffeflion of the heart.
A great part of our fafliionable mufic feems in^
tended rather to tickle and aftonifli the hearers,
than to infpire them with any permanent emo-
tions. And if that be the end of the ^rt, then,
to be fure, this fafliionable mufig is juft what it
fliould be, and the finripler ftrains of former ages
are good for nothing. Nor an) I now at leifufe
to inquire, whether it be better for an avidicncc
to be thus tickled iSLtid aftoniftied, than to have
their fancy impreflcd with beautiful images, and
their hearts melted with tender pafllons, or ele-»
vated with fublime ones. But if you grant me
this one point, that mufic is more or lefs per-
feft, in proportion as it has more or lefs power
over the heart, it will foUpw, that all mqfic
merely inftriimental, and which does not derive
fignificancy from any of the affociations, habits,
QT optward circumftances, aboy^ mentioned, is tq
A N D M U S I C. 151
a cercam degree imperfeA *, and that, while the
cules hinted at in the following queries are over**
looked by compofers and perfbrm^-s, vocal mu-
fie, though it may aftonilh mankind, or afford
them a flight gratification, will never be attended
with thofe important effeAs that we know it pro-
duced of old in the days of fimplicity and true
tafte.
I. Is not good mufic fet to bad poetry as un-
expreOive, and therefore as abfurd, as good poe-
try fet to bad mufic, or as harmonious language
without meaning ? Yet the generality of mufi*
cians appear to be indifferent in regard to this
matter. If the found of the words be good, or
the meaning of particular words agreeable; if
there be a competency of hills and rills, doves
and loves, fountains and mountains, with a to-
lerable colleftion of garlands and lambkins,
nymphs and cupids, hergeres and IwloreUaSj they
are not folicitous about fenfe or elegance. In
which they feem to me to confult their own ho«
nour as little as the rational entertainment of
others. For what is there to elevate the mind of
that compofer, who condemns himfelf to fet mu-
fic to infipid doggerel ? Handel's genius never
foared to heaven, till it caught ftrength and fire
from the drains of infpiration.— 2. Should not the
words of every fong be intelligible to thofe to
whom it is addreflTed, and be diftinfbly articulated,'
fo as to be heard as plainly as the notes ? Or can
the human mind be rationally gratified with that
which it does not perceive, or which, if it did
L 4 perceive.
152 ON P O E T k Y
perceive, it would not undcrftand ? And there-
fore, is not the mufic of a fong faulty, when it is
fo complex as to make the dlftinS articulation oE
, the words -imprafticable? — 3. If the finger's
voice and words ought to be heard in e?ery part:
of the fong, can there be any propriety in noify
accompaniments ? And as every performer in a
numerous band is not perfeftly difcreet, and as
■fome performers may be more careful to diftin-
guilh thcmfelves than xio juftice to the fong, will
not an inftrumental accompaniment be almoft nc-
ceflarily too noify, if it is complex ? — 4. Does not
the frequent repetition of the fame w©rds in a
fong, confound its meaning, and diftradt the at-
tention of both the finger and the hearer ? And
are not long-winded divifions (or fucceffions of
notes warbled to one fy liable) attended with a
like inconvenience, and with this additional bad
cfFeft, that they difqualify the voice for expref-
fion, by exhaufting it ? Is not fimplicity as great
t ' a pert edion in mufic, as in painting and poetry ?
Or fliould we admire that orator who chofe to
exprefs by five hundred words, a fentiment that
might be more emphatically conveyed in five ?-^
5. Ought not the finger to bear in mind, that he
has fentiments to utter as well as founds ? And
if fo, fliould he not perfeftly undcrftand what he
fays, as well as what he fings •, and not only mo-
dulate his notes with the art of a mufician, but
alfo pronounce his words with the propriety of a
public fpeaker ? If he is taught to do this, does
he not learn of courfe to avoid all grimace arid
finical
A N D M U S I C. I5J
finical gefticulation ? And will he not then ac-
quit himfclf in finging like a rational creature,
and a man of fenfe ? Whereas, by purfuing a
contrary conduft, is he not to be confidcred ra-
ther as a puppet or wind-inftrument, than as an
elegant artift i — 6. Is not church-mufic more im*
portant than any other? and ought it not for
that reafon to be mod intelligible and exprelCve ?
But will this be the cafe, if the notes are drawn
cfut to ftich an immoderate length, that the
words of the finger cannot be underftood ? Bc-
fides, does not exceflive (lownefs, in finging or
f(>eaking, tend rather to wear out the fpirits,
Aan to elevate the fancy, or warm the heart ? It
would feem, then, that the vocal part of church-
tnufic (hould never be fo flow as to fatigue thofc
who fing, or to render the words of the fong in
any degree unintelligible to thofe who hear.— -
7. Do flourifhcd cadences, whether by a voice or
inftrument, ferve any other purpofc, than to take
off our attention from the fubjeft, and fet us a
ftaring at the flexibility of the performer's voice,
the fwiftnefs of his fingers, or the found of his
fiddle ? And if this be their only ufe, do they
not counterafl:, inftcad of promoting, the chief
end of mufic ? What fliould we think, if a tra-
gedian, at the conclufion of every fccne, or of
every fpeech, in Othello, were to ftrain his throat
into a preternatural fcream, make a hideous wry
face, or cut a caper four feet high ? We might
wonder at the ftrength of his voice, the pliancy
of his features, or the fpringinefs of his limbs ;
but
,|4 ONPOETRY
but fhould hardly admire him as intelligent 19
Jiis art, or rcfpedful to his audience.
But is it not agreeable to hear a fioriifong by
a fine performer, though now and then the voice
ihould be drowned amidft the accompaniments,
and though the words ihould not be un^erftbod
by the hearers, or even by the finger ? I anfwer,
that nothing can be very agreeable, which brings
difappointment. In the cafe fuppofcd, the tones
of the voice might no doubt give pleafure : but
from inftrumental muGc we exped fomething
more, and from vocal mufic a great deal more,
than mere fweetncfs of found. From poetry and
mufic united we have a right to expect pathos,
fentiment, and melody, and in a word every gra-
tification that the tuneful art can beftow. But in
fweetnefs of tone the beft finger is not fuperior,
and fcarcely equal, to an Eolus harp, to Vif-
cher's hautboy, or to Giardini*s violin. And can
we without diflatisfadion fee a human creature
dwindle into mere wood and cat-gut ? Can we
be gratified with what only tickles the ear, when
we had rcafon to hope, that a powerful addrefs
would have been made to the heart ? — A hand-
fome.aftrefs walking on the ftage would no doubt
be looked at with complacency for a minute or
two, though flie were not to fpeak a word. But
furely we had a right to expeft a different fort of
entertainment ; and were her filence to laft a few
minutes longer, I believe the politeft audience
in Europe .would let her know that they were of-
fended.~To conclude : A foog, which we liften
A N D M U S I C. 155
CO Without underftanding t^e words^ is like ^
pifture feen at too great a diftance. The for-
mer may be allowed to charm the ear with fweet
founds, in the fame degree in which the latter
pleales the eye with beautiful colours. But, till
the defign of the whole, and the meaning of each
part, be made obvious to fenfe, it is impofllble
to derive any rational entertainment from either^
I hope I have given no offence to the connoif-
feur by thefe obfervations. They are diftatcd
by a hearty zeal for tfie 4ionour of an art, of
which I have heard and feen enough to be fa-
tisfied, that it is capable of being improved into
an inftrumcnt of virtue, as well as of plcafurc*
If I did not think fo, I (hould hardly have t^ken
the trouble to write thefe remarks, flight as
they are, upon the philofophy of it. But to re-
turn :
Every thing in art, nature, or common life,
muft give delight, which communicates delight-
ful pafljons to the human mrnd. And becaufe
all the paflions that mufic can infpire are of the
Agreeable kind, it follows, that all pathetic or
cxpreffive mufic mUft be agreeable. Mufic may
infpire devotion, fortitude, compaflion, benevo-
lence, tranquility ; it may infufe a gentle forrow
that foftens, without wounding, the heart, or a
fublime horror that expands, and elevates, while
it aftoniihes, the imagination: but mufic has no
(;xprefiion for impiety, cowardice, cruelty, hatred,
pr difcontent. For every eflential rule of the art
(^nds to produce pleafing combinations of found ;
and
156 O N P O E T R Y
and it is difficult to conceive^ how from thcfe aoy
painful or criminal affedions ihould arife. I
believe, however, it might be pra61:icable, by
means of harfh tones, irregular rhythm, and con*
tinual diflbnance, to work the mind into a dif-
agreeable (late, and to produce horrible thoughts*
and criminal propenfity, as well as painful fenfa-
tlons. But this would not be mufic \ nor can it
ever be for the intereft of any fociety to put fuch
a villanous art in pradice.
Milton was fo fenfible of the moral tendency
of mufical exprelTion, that he afcribes to it the
power of raifmg fome praife-worthy enwtions
even in the devils themfelvcs *. Would Dry-
den, if he had been an adept in this art, as Mil-
ton was, have made the fong of Timotheus in-
flame Alexander to revenge and cruelty ? — -At
any rate, I am well pleafed that Dryden fell
into this miftake (if it be one), becaufe it has
produced fome of the mod animated lines that
ever were written f . And I am alfo pleafed to
find, for the honour of mufic, and of this criti-
cifm, that hiftory afcribes the burning of Perfe-
polis, not to any of the tuneful tribe, but to the
inftigation of a drunken harlot.
IV. Is there not reafon to think, that variety
and fimplicity of ftrufture may contribute fome-
thing to the agreeablenefs of mufic, as well as
of poetry and profc. Variety, kept within due
• Paradife Loft, b. i, verf. 549. — 562.
f Alexander's Feaft^ fianza 6.
bounds.
A N D M U S I C. 157
bonndst is pkafing, becaufe it refreihes the mind
with novelty ; and is therefore ftudiouQy fought
after in all the arts, and in none of them more
than in mufic. To give this charadcr to his
compolitions, the poet varies his phrafcologjr and /
fyntax ; and the feer, the paufes, and the found
of contiguous vcrfes, as much as the fubjedt,
the language, and the laws of verfification wiU
permit: and the profe-writcr combines longer
with fliortcr fentences in the fame paragraph,
longer with ftiorter claufes in the fame fentence,
and even longer with fliorter words in the fame
claufe ; terminates contiguous claufes and fen«
fences by a different cadence, and conftruds theoi
by a different fyntax ; and in general avoids all
monotony and fimilar founds, except where they
arc unavoidable, or where they may contribute
(as indeed they often do) to energy or perfpi-
ciiity. Hie muficiaa diverfifies his melody^ by
changing his keys -, by deferring or interrupting
his cadences ; by a mixture of (lower and quicker,
higher and lower, foftcr and louder notes ; and,
in pieces of length, by altering the rhythm, the
movement, and the 4ftrr and his harmony he
varies, by varying his concords and difcords, by
a change of modulation, by contrafting the afcent
or flower motion of one part to the defccnt or
quicker motion of another, by affigning different
harmonies to the fame melody, or diflferent me-
lodies to the fame harmony^ and by many other
contrivances*
SimpliciQ^
1581 O N P O E T R Y
Simplicity makes mufic, as well as languagf^^
intelligible and expreffive. It is in every work of
art a recommendatory quality. In mufic it 19 ki*
difpenfable •, for we are never pleafed with that
mufic which we cannot underftand, or which feems
to have no meaning. Of the aocient mufic little
more is known» than that it was veryafFefting
and very fimple. All popular and favourite
airs ; all that remains of the old national mufic
in every country; all military marches, church-
tunes, and other compofitions that are more im-
mediately addrefled to the heart, and intended to
pleafe the general tafte ; all proverbial maxims
of morality and prudence, and all thofe poetical
phrafes and lines, which every body remembers,
and. is occafionally repeating, are remarkable for
limpKcity* To which we may add, that lan-
guage, while it improves in fimplicity, grows
more and more perfeift: and that, as it lofes
this character, it declines in the fame proportion
from the ftandard of elegance, and draws nearer
and nearer to utter depravation *• Without fim-
plicity, the varieties of art, inftead of pleafing,
would only bewilder tbje attention, and confound
the judgment.
Rhythm, or Number, is in mufic a copious
fource of both variety and uniformity. Not to
enter into any nice fpeculation on the nature of
rhythm f^ (for which this is not a proper place,
* Sec Li yietnde delta Utttratura del. S/g, Carfif Denina.
t The nature of Rhythm, and the fcvcral diviiions of it, ar^
vrjy ace c rarely explained by the leanied author of An Effay
La the 9rigim andprognfi of language^ vol. ii* p. 301.
I ihall
AND MUSIC. 15^.
I fliall only obferve^ that notes, as united in mu-
fie, admit of the diftinftion of quick and flow,
as well as of acute and grave ; and that on the
former diftinAion depends what is here called
Rhythm. It is the only thing in a tune which
the drum can imitate. And by that inftrument,
the rhythm of any tune may be imitated moft
perfe3:ly, as well as by the found of the feet in
dancing :— only as the feet can hardly move fo
quick as the dirumfticks, the dancer may be obli«
ged to repeat his ftrokes at longer intervals, by
fuppofing the mufic divided into larger portions ^
to give one ftroke, for example, where the drum-
mer might give two or three, or two where the
other would give four or fix. For every piece of
regular muGc is fuppofed to be divided into
fmall portions (feparated in writing by a crofs
line called a bar) which, whether they contain
more or fewer notes, are all equal in refpedt of
time. In this way, the rhythm is a fource of
uniformity}, which pleafes by fuggefting the
agreeable ideas of regularity and (kill/ and, ftill
more, by rendering the mufic intelligible. It
alfo pleafes, by raifing and gratifying expcdtation :
for if the movement of the piece were governed by
no rule; if what one hears of it during the pre-
fcnt moment were in all refpefts unlike and in.
commenfurablc to what one was to hear the next,
and had heard the laft, the whole would be a
ipafs of confufion ; and the ear would either be
bewildered, having nothing to reft upon, and
nothing to anticipate ^ or, if it fhould expeft
any
j6o ONPOETRY
any ftated ratio between the motion and the time,
would be difappointed when it found that there
was none. — That rhythm is a fource of very great
"fforiety^ every perfon mud be ienfible, who
knows only the names of the mufical notes, with
fuch of their, divitions and fubdivifions as relate
to time ; or who has attended to the manifold va-
rieties of quick and flow motion, which the drum
is capable of producing^
As order and proportion are always delight^
ful, it is no wonder that mankind fhould be
agreeably afFcfted with the rhythm of mufic.
That they are, the univerfal ufe of dancing, and of
" the fpirit-ftirring drum," is a fufficient evidence.
Nay, I have known a child imitate the rhythm
of tunes before he could fpeak, and long before
he could manage his voice fo as to imitate their
melody ; — twhich is a proof, that human nature i^
fufceptible of this delight previoufly to the ac-
quirement of arci5cial habits.
V. I hinted at the power of accidental affo-
ciation in giving lignificancy to mufical cornpo-
fitions. It may be remarked further, that aflb-
ciation contributes greatly to heighten their agrcc-
.able efFe£t. We have heard them performed,
fome time or other, in an agreeable place per-
haps, or by an agreeable perfon, or accompanied
with words that defcribe agreeable ideas: or
we have heard them in our early years ; a period
of life, which we feldom look back upon without
pleafure, and of which Bacon recommends the
frequent recoUedion as ,an expedient to preferve
health.
AND M tr S I C. i6i
health. Nor is it neccffary, that fuch melodies
or harmonics Ihould have much intrinfic merit,
or that they Ihould tall up any diftinft remem-
brance* of the agreeable ideas aflbciated with
them. There are feafons, at which we are gra-
tified with very moderate excellence. In qhild-
hood^ every tune is delightful to a mufical ear ;
in our advanced years, an indifferent tune will
pleafe, when fet off by the amiable qualities of
the performer, or by any other agreeable circum-
ftance.— During the laft war, the Belkijle march
Vas long a general favourite. It filled the minds
of our people with magftificent ideas of armies,
and conqueft, and military fplendor ; for they
believed it to be the tune that was played by the
French garrifon whefi it marched out with the
honours of war, and furrendered that fortrefs to
the Britifli troops. — The flute of a fhepherd heard
at a diilance, in a fine fummer day, amidil a
beautiful fcene of groves, hills, and waters, will
give rapture to the ear of the wanderer, though
the tune, the inftrument, and the mufician, be
(Uch as he could not endure in any other place.
—If a fong, or piece of mulic, fbould call up
only a faint i'emembrance, that we were happy
the Jaft time we heard it, nothing more would
be needful to make us liflen to it again with pe-
culiar fatisfaftion.
It is an amiable prejudice that people generally
entertain in favour of their iiational mufic. This
loweft degree of patriotifm is not without its
^f merit;
1^2 ON POETRY
merit : and that man muft have a bard hearty
or dull unagination, in whom^ though endowed
with mufical fenfibtlityt no fweet emotions would
arife, on hearing, in his riper years, or in a fo-
reign land, thoie ftrains that were the delight of
his childhood. What though they be inferior to
the Italian ? What though they be even irregular
and rude ? It is not their merit, which in the
cafe fi^ppofed would intereft a native, but the
charming ideas they would recal to his mind :^—
ideas of innocetice, fimplicity, and leifure, of ro*
mantic enterprife, and enthufiaftic attachment f
and of fcenes, which, on recolle&ion, we are inr
dined to think, that a brighter fun illuminated^
a frefher verdure crowned, and purer fkies and
happier climes confpired tp beautify, than are
now to be feen in the dreary paths of care and
difappointment, into which men, yielding to the
paflions peculiar to more advanced years, are
tempted to wander. — There are couplets In Ogil-
vie's Tranflatton of Virgil, which I could never
read without emotions far more ardent than the
merit of the numbers would juftify. But it was
that book which firft taught me *^ the tale of
♦• Troy divine *," and firft made me acquainted
with poetical fentiments ; and though I read it
when almoft an infant, it conveyed to my heart
fome pleafing impreiTions, that remain there un^
impaired to this day,
* Mtlton'i PenferoTo.
There
A N D M U S I C 1^3
'I'here is a dance in Switzerluid, which the
yoyng (hepherds perform to a tune played on a
fort of bag-pipe. The tune is called Ranee des
caches \ it is wild and irregular, but has nothing
in its compolition that could recommend it to
our noticie.. But the Swifs are fo intoxicated
ipvith this tune, that if at any time they hear it^
when abroad in foreign fervice, they burft into
cnrs; and often fall lick, and even die, of a
pafijonate defire to revifit their native country %
for which reafon, in fome armies where they
&rve, the playing of this tune is prohibited^.
This tune, having been the attendant of their
childhood and early youth, recals to their me-
Hiory thofe regions of wild beauty and rude mag-
nificence, thofe days of liberty and peace, thofe
nights of feftivity, thofe happy afiemblres, thofe
tender paSions, which formerly endeared to them
their country, their homes, and their employ-
ments ^ and which, when compared with the
feenes of uproar they are now engaged in, and
the fervitude they now undergo, awaken fuch re-
gret as entirely overpowers them.
■ * Rouflfeao. Di^ionaire dc; Nf ali(|ue» art* Rantu J^svasbes.
M a SECT.
1^4 O N P O E T R TT
r
SECT. III.
ConjeSiures en fimi peculiarities of National Mufit.
THcre is a certain ftylc of melody peculiar ta
each mufical country, which the people
of that country arc apt to prefer to every other
ftylc. That they fliould prefer their own, is not
furprifing ; and that the melody of one people
Ihould differ from that of another, is not more
furpriiing, perhaps, than that the language of one
people (hould differ from that of another* But
there is fomething not unworthy of notice m the
particular exprefTion and ftyle that charaftorife
the mufic of one nation or province, and diftin-
guifti it from every other f6rt of mufic. Of this di-
verficy Scotland fupplies a ftriking example.
The native melody of the highlands and weftern
ifles is as different from that of the fouthern part
of the kingdom, as the Irifh or Erfe language is
different from the Englilh or Scotch. In the
contlufion of a difcourfe on mufic as it relates to
the mind, it will not perhaps be impertinent to
offer a conjefture on the caufc pf thefe peculia-
rities ; which, though it fhould not (and indeed
I am fatisfied that it will not) fully account for
any one of them, may however incline the reader
to think that they are not unaccountable, and
may
A N D M U S I C. 165
fiday alfo throw feme fatat light on this part of
pbilofophy.
Every thought that partakes of the nature of
paiCon, has a correfpondent expreflion in the look
and gefture : and fo ftrift is the union between
the paffion and its outward fign, that, where the
former is not in fome degree felt, the latter can
never be perfedlly natural, but, if aflumed, be-
comes aukward mimickry, inftcad of that ge*
nuinc imitation of nature, which draws forth the
iympathy of the beholder. If, therefore, there
be, in the circumftances of particular nations or
perfons, any thing that gives a peculiarity to their
pailions and thoughts, it feems reafonable to ex-
pcft, that they will alfo have fomething pecu-
liar in the expreflion of their countenance, and
even in the form of their features. Caius Marius,
Jugurtha, Tamerlane, and fome other great war-
riors, are celebrated for a peculiar ferocity of
afpeft, which they had no doubt contraftcd from
a perpetual and unreftr^med exertion of forti-
tude, contempt, and other violent emotions.
Thefe produced in the face their correfpondent
expreflions, which being often repeated, became
at laft as habitual to the features, as the fenti-
ments they arofe from were to the heart. Sa-
vages, whofe thoughts are little inured to con-
troul, have more of this fignificancy of look, than
thofe men, who, being born and bred in civilized
nations, ar6 adcuftomed from their childhood to
fgpprefe tvtrf emotion that- tends to interrupt the
' ■ M 3 peace
i66 ONPOETRY
peace of fociety. And while the bloom of youth
lafts, and the fmoothnefs of feature peculiar to
that period, the human face is lefs marked with
any ilrong character, than in old age : — a peevifh
or furly ^tripling may elude the eye of the phy-
liognomill j but a wicked old man, whofe vifage
jdoes not betray the evil temperature of his hearts
muft have more cunning than it would be pru-
dent for him to acknowledge. Even by the trade
or^ profcfllon the human countenance may be
charadlerifed. They who employ themfelves in
the nicer mechanic arts, that require the earned
attention of the artift, do generally contraft a
fixednefs of feature fuited to that one uniform
fentiment which engroffes them while at work.
Whereas, other artifts, whofe work requires lefs
attention, and who may ply their trade and amufe
themfelves with converfatiqn at the fame time,
have for the moft part fmoother and more un-
xpeaning faces : their thoughts are more mifcel-
Uneous, and therefore their feature$ are lefs fixed
in one uniform configuration. lA keen pene-
trating look indicates thoughtfulnefs and fpirit :
a dul) torpid countenance is not often accomp^**
pied with great fagacity,
Thisf, though there may be many an exception,
is in general true of the vifible figns of our paf-
fions; and it is no lefs true of the audib}e. A
man habitually peevilh, or paffionate, or ^ueru-f
lous, or imperious, may be known by the foun4
gf his ypice, as we}! as by hk phyfiognomy,
Mnjr
AMD M U S I C 167
May we tiot go a ftep farther, and fay» chat if a
man under the influence of any palBon were to
compqfe a difcourfe, or a poem, or a tune, his
work would in fome meafure exhibit an image of
his mind f I could not eafily be perfuaded, that
Swift and Juvenal were men of fweet tempers ;
or that Thomfon, Arbuthnot, and Prior were ill-
natured. The airs of Felton are fo uniformly
mournful, that I cannot fuppofe him to have
been a merry, or even a chearful man. If a mu-
fician, in deep afBidion, were to attempt to
compofe a lively air, I believe he would not fuc^*
eeed : though I confefs i do not well underftand
the nature of the connexion that may take {dace
between a mournful mind and a melancholy
tune. It is eafy to conceive, how a poet or an
orator ihould transfufe his paflions into his work :
for every paffion fuggefts ideas congenial to its
own nature-; and the compofition of the poet, or
of the orator, muft neceffarily confift of thofe
ideas that occur ac the time he is compofing.
But mufical founds are not the figns of ideas ;
rarely are they even the imitations of natural
. founds : fo that I am at a lofs to conceive how it
fliould happen, chat a muGcian, overwhelmed
with forrow, for example, Ihould put together a
fcries of notes, whole exprellion is contrary to that
of another fcries which he had put together when
elevated with joy. But of the faft I am not
doubtful •, though I have not fagacity, or knowt
ledge of mufic, enough to be able to explain it.
And my opinion in this matter is warrantee^ by
M 4 $ba;
(C
i68 ONPOETIt¥
that of a more competent judge; -iriio %§/
fpeakbg of cburch-roluntarica, that if the Orga*
nift " do not feel in himfelf the divine * epergy
<< of devotion, he will labour in vain to raife it
^* in others. Nor can he hope to throw out thofe
happy inftantaneous thoughts, which fome-
times far exceed the bcft concerted cdmpd-
^ fitions, and which the enraptured performcfN
" would gladly fccure to his future ufe and plea^
^« fure, did they not as fleetly cfcape as they
** rife*." A man who has made mufic the ftudy
of his life, and is well acquainted with all the
befl: examples of ftyle and expreflion that are to^
he found in the works of former matters, may,
hy memory and much praftice, attain a fort of
mechanical dexterity in contriving mufic fuitable
to any given paQion ; but fuch mufic would, I
prcfume, be vulgar and fpiritlefs, compared to
what an artift of genius throws out, when under
the power of any ardent emotion. It is recorded
of Lulli* that, once, when his imagination was
all ,^ fire with fome verfes defcripiive of terrible
ideas, which he had been reading in a French
tragedy, he ran to his harpfichord, and ftruck oiF
fuch a combination of founds, that the conrx-
pany felt their hair ftand on end with horror.
Let us therefore fuppofe it proved, or, if you
pleafe, take it for granted, that diSerent fenti-
Hients in the mind of the mufician will give dif-
ferent and peculiar expreffions to his mufic i—»
* AvifoQ on Muilcal Expreifion, pag, 8S. 89.
8 and
A N D M U S I C. 169
md upon this principle, it will not pcs^mps be
impoflible to account for iome of the pfaenomti^a
of a national ear.
The highlands of Scotland are a pifturefque,
but in general a melancholy country. Long
trafts of mountainous defert, covered with dark
heath, and often obfcured by mifty weather;*
narrow yallies, thinly inhabited, and bounded-
by precipices refounding with the fall of torreqts j
a foil fo rugged, and a climate fo dreary, as in
many pafrts to admit neither the amufements of
pafturage, nor the laboure of agriculture; the
mournful dafhing of waves along the friths and
lakes that interfedt the country ; the portentous
noifes which every change of the wind, and every
incrcafc and diminution of the waters, is apt to
raife, in a lonely region, full of echoes, and
rocks, and caverns ; the grotefque and ghaftly
appearance of fuch a landfcape by the light of
the moon :-i-Obje6i:s like thefc difFufe a gloom
over the fancy, which may be compatible enough
with occafional and focial merriment, but cannot
fail to tinfture the thoughts of a native in the
hour of filerice and folitude. If thefe people,
^lotwithftanding their reformation in religion, and
more frequent intercourfe with ftrangers, do ftill
retain many of their old fuperftitions, we need
Qot doubt but in former times they muft have
been more enflaved to the horrors of imagination,
when befet with the bugbears of Popery, and the
darknefs of Paganifm, Molt of their fuperfti*
tions
I70 ONPOETRY
tions are of a melancholy caft. That Secmi
Sigbt^ wberewich fome of them are ftill fuppofed
to be haunted, is confidered by thetnfelves as a
misfortune, on account of the many dreadful
images it is faid to obtrude upon the fancy. I
bave been told, that the inhabitants of fome of
the Alpine regions do likewife lay claim to a fort
of fecond fight. Nor is it wonderful, that per-
fons of lively imagination, immured in deep fo-
litude, and furrounded with the ftupendoiis fee*
nery of clouds, precipices, and torrents, fliould,
dream, even when they think themfelves awake,
of thofe few ftriking ideas with which their lonely
lives are diverfified; of corpfes, funeral procef-
fions, and other objeAs of terror ; or of marriages,
and the arrival of ftrangers, and fuch like matters
of more agreeable curiofity *. Let it be pbfcrved
alfo
^ I do not find fafficient evidence for the reality of Si^end
Sights or at lead of what is commonly underllood by that term.
A treat! fe on the fabjed was publifhed in the year 1762, in
which many tales were told of perfons, whom the author be- .
lievf d to have been favodred, or haunted, with thefe illumina-
ti6ns ; but mod of the tales were trifling and ridiculous : and
the whole work betrayed extreme credulity on the part of the
eompiler. That any of thefe vifionaries are liable to be fwaycd
in their dedarations by iiniiler views, I will not fay ; though 9
gentleman of charader afliired me, that one of them offeried
to felt him this unaccountable talent for half a crown. But
thh I think niay be faid with confidence, that none but igno-
nnt people pretend to be gifted in this way. And in them k
may be nothing more, perhaps, than ihort fits of fudden deep
or drowfioefi attended with lively dreams, and arifing feonii
^me ^bodily diibrdcr, the tfk& of idlencft^ low fpirits, or a
gloomy
A N D M U S I C. 171
alfo, that the ancient highlandcrs of Scodand
had hardly any other way of fupporting them-
felves.
gloomy imagination. For it 19 admitted, eveii by the moil i
dulotts highlandcrs, that, as knowledge and ioduftry are pro*
pagated in their country, the fecond fight difappears in pro*
portion : and nobody ever laid claim to this faculty, who wat
mach employed in the intercourfe of focial life. Nor is it at all
extraordinary, that one ihould have the appearance of being
awake, and ihould even think one's felf fo, during thefe fits of
dozing ; or that they ihould come on fuddenly, and while one
is engaged in fome l3ufiners. The fame thing happens to per-
fons moch fatigued, or long kept awake, who frequently fall
•fleep for a moment, or for a longer fpace, while they are
ftanding, or walking, or riding on horfeback. Add but a
lively dream to thii flumber, and (which it the frequent efFe&
of diieafe) take away the confcioufnefs of having been afleeps
and a faperftitious man, who is always hearing and believing
tales of iecond fight, may eafily miftake his dream for a waking
vifioQ : which however is foon forgotten when do fubfequenc
occurrence recals it to his memory ; but which, if it (hall be
thought CO refemble any future event, exalu the poor dreamer
into a highland prophet. This conceit makes him more reclufe
and more melancholy than ever, and fo feeds bis diCbafe^ and
multiplies his viiions ; which, if they are not diilipated by bu-
finefs or ibciety, may continue to haunt him as long at he
lives ; and which, in their progrefs through the neighbour*
hood, receive fome new tindure of the marvellous from every
mouth that promotes their circulation.— As to the prophetical
nature of this fecond-fight, it cannot be admitted at all. That
the J^eity ihould work a miracle, in order to give intimation
of the frivolous things that thefe dreams are made up of, the
arrival of a ilranger, the nailing of a coifin, or the colour of a
fuit of dothea ; and that thefe intimations ihould be given for
no end, and to thofe perfons only who art idle and folitary,
who fpeak Erie, or who live among moantains and deferts,—
ifi like nothing in nature or providence that we are acquainted
with J
171 O N P O E T R y
feives than by hunting, filhing, or war, profeffions
that are continually expofed to fatal accidents.
And
wkh ; and muft thereforejiinlers it were coniirmed by a fatisfac-
tory proof (which is not the cafe), be rejeded as abfard aod
Vicredible. The vifions» fuch as they are» may reaibnably
enough be afcribed to a diflempered fancy. And th^t in them,
as well as in our ordinary dreams, certain appearances fhould»
t>n fome rare occafions» referable certain events, is to be ex^.
pe£Ud from the laws of chance; and feems to have in it no«
thing more marvellous or fupernatoral, than that the parrdt,
who deals out his (currilities at random, fiiould fometimes hap-
pen to falute the pafTenger by his right appellation.
But, whatever the reader may think of chefe remarks, or
of t]ieir pertinency to the prefent fubje^, J am fure I fhall not
be blamed for quoting, from a poem little known, the follow*
tng very piflurefque lines ; which may fhow, that what in
hidory or philofopby would make but an awkward £gure, may
ibmeiimes have a charming eiFed in poetry.
E'er fince of old the haughty Thanes of Rofs
(So to the fimple /wain tradition tells)
Were wont, with clans and ready vaflals throng'd.
To wake the boanding (lag, or guilty wolf;
There oft is heard at midnight, or at noon.
Beginning faint, but rifing ftill more loud
And nearer, voice of hunters and of hounds,
And horns, hoarfe-winded, blowing far and keen*
Forthwith the hubbub multiplies ; the gale
Labours with wilder fhrieks, and rifer din
Of hot purfuii ; the broken cry of deer.
Mangled by throttling dogs ; the fhouts of men.
And hoofs thick-beating on the hollow hill.
Sudden, the grazing heifer in the vale
Starts at the lumult, and the herdfman's cars
Tingle with inward dread, Aghafi: h^ eyes
The mountain's height, and all the ridges round i
Yet not one trace of living wight difcems :
' Nor
A N D M U S I a 173
And Kence, no doubt, additional horrors would
Dften haunc their folitude, and a dceptr gloom
AVerfliadow the imagination even of the hardieft
native.
What then would it be reafonable to exped
from the fanciful tribe, from the muficians. and
poets, of fuch a region ? Strains, expreffivr of
joy, tranquillity, or the fofter pafllons ? No :
their ftyle muft have been better fuited to their
circomftafices. And fo we find in faft that thei^
mufic is. The wildeft irregularity appears in its
compofition : the expreflion is warlike, and me*
lancholy, and approaches even to the terrible.
-^And that their poetry is almofl; u^niformly
mournful, and their views of nature dark and
dreary, will be allowed, by all who admit of th^
-authenticity of Offian ^ and not doubted by any
who believe thofe fragments of highland poetry
to be genuine, which many old people, now afive,
of that country, remember to have heard in
their youth, and were then taught to refer to a^
pretty high antiquity.
Some of the fouthcrn provinces of Scotland
prcfent a very different profpcft. Smooth and
lofty hills covered with verdure; clear ft reams'
winding through long and beautiful vallies ; trees
Nor kno^, o'eraw*d nni trembling as he flahds^
To whall, or whom, he owes his idle fear.
To ghoft, to witch, to fairy, or to fiend ;
fitft wonders ; and no end of wondeVing finds.
At BAN! A, a poem* London, 1737, Mio^
produced
174 ONPOETRY
produced without culture, here ftrag^hsg or
fingle, and there crouding into little gro^s and
bowers; — with other circumilances peculiar to
the diftrids I allude to, render them fit for paftu*
rage, and favourable to romantic leifure and ten*
der paillons. Several of the old Scotch fong$
take, their names from the rivulets, villages,
and hills, adjoining to the Tweed near Melrofe *j
a region diftinguiflied by many charming varie*
ties of rural fcencry, and which, whether we con-
fider the face of the country, or the genius of
the people, may properly enough be termed the
Arcadia of Scodand. And all thefe fongs are
iweetly and powerfully expreflive of love and
tendernefs, and other emotions fuited to the cran«
quillity of paftoral life.
It is a common opiniony that thefe fongs wei^
compofed by David Rizzio^ a mufician from Ita*
ly, the unfortunate favourite of. a very unfortu*
nate queen. But this muft be a milfcake. Th«
ftyle of the Scotch mufic was fixed before hb
time *, for many of the beft of thefe tunes are
afcribed by tradition to a more remote period.
And it is not to be fuppofed, that he, a foreigner,
and in the latter part of his life a man of buii-«
nefs, could have acquired or invented a ftyle of
mufical compofition fo different in every refpeft
from that to which he had been accuftomed in
his own country. Melody is fo much the charac-
• Cowdenknowi, Galaibielsy Galawater, Ectciick banks,
Bra«i of Yarrow, Baih abofc Traquair, &c.
teriftic
A N D M U S I C. 175
teriftic of the Scotch times, that I doubt' whether
even baifes were fee to them before the prtfent
century; whereas, in the days of Rizzio, /for-
monf was the fafhionable ftudy of the Italian com*
pofers. Paleftiila himfelf, who flouriihed about
two hundred and fifty years ago, and who has
obtained the high title of Father of Harmony, is
by a great matter * ranked with thofe who ne*
gleded air, and were too clofely attached to coun-
terpoint; and at the time when Rizzio was a
ftudent in the art, Paieftina's muft have been the
favourite mufic in Italy.^-^Befides, though the
ftyle of the old Scotch melody has been well
imitated by Mr. Ofwald, and fome other natives,
I do not find that any foreigner has ever caught
the true fpirtt of it. Geminiani, a great and ori-
ginal genius in this art, and a profefled admirer
of the Scotch fongs (fome of which he publiflied
with accompaniments), ufed to fay, that he had
blotted many a quire of paper to no purpofe, in
attempting to compofe a fecond ftrain to that
fine little air whi«h in Scotland is known by the
name of The trpom of Cazvdenkno^s.-^To all
which we may add, that Taflbniy.the author of
La Seccbia rapita^ fpeaks of this mufic as well
cfteemcd by the Italians of his time f , and
afcribes the invention of it to James King of
Scotland :-»which a foreigner might naturally do,
as all the Scotch kings of that name, p«rucu-
* AWfen on MttC £xpreffion» p* 49* sif
f Tuflbiii wat^born in 1565.
S larly
17^ O N P O E T R Y '
I7 the flrft, third, fourth, and fifth, w^t fkitled
both in muCic and poetry,
Btit though I admit f aflbni's teftimony as' a
proof, that the Scotxiih tnufiG is more adcient tha^i
Riztio, r do not think him right in what he
fays of its inventcR*. Nor can I acquicfce in the
opinion of thofc who give the honour of thia
invention to the m^ks of Melrofe, I rather be^
iieve, that it took its rife among men wh6 were
real fliepherds, and who actually fett the fenti*
fiktnts dnd aflfd&ions, whereof it is fo vtrjt:t^
-ptcBirc. Rizzio may have been one of the firft>
perhaps, who made a coUedion of thefe fongs;-
or he may have played them with morc: deli^
c^te touches than the Scotch muficians of that
time; or perhaps correfted the extravagance of
certain paffages j— for one is ftruck with^^ the re*-
gulsurity of ibme, as well as amufed with the wild*
nefs of others :— and in all or any of thofe cafes^
it might be faid with truth, that the Scotch mufic
is under obligations to him : — but that this
fiyle of paftoral melody, fo Unlike the Italian,
and in every refpe<St fo pecuUar^ fliould have been
leftablifbed or invented by him, is incredible 5 nay
(if it were worth while to afiert any thing fo po-
fitively on fueh a fubjed),. we might even fay^
impoffible.
The acknowledged and unequalled excellence
of the Italian muGc, is one of thofe phenomena
of a National Tafte, that may in part -be ac-
counted for. Let us recollect fome particular!
of
A Jl t) M U S 1 C; Iff
of the hiftoiy df that period^ when this mufid
i)egan to recommend itfelf to general notice.
Leo the Tenth, and fome of his immediate pre-*
decefibr^, had many great vices, and fotiie vir-
tues I aild '^t at this day feci the good efFefts of^
both : for Providence has been pleafed, in this
itiftance, as in many others, to bring good out.
of evil, and to accomplifh the moft glorious pur-
pofes by means that Teemed to have an opp^te
tendency. Theprofufion, and other more fcandalous
qualities of Leo^ were inftru mental in haftening
forward the Refornlation : to his liberality and
bve of art we owe the fincft pictures, the fineft
muHcal compoQtions, and fome of the fitiefl:
pbenrrs in the world.
The fixteenth century does indeed great ho~i
nour to the Italian genius. The ambition of
Alexander the Sixth, and Julius the Second, had
. taif^ the Papal power to high eminence, and
fettled it on a firmer foundation, than had been
known before their time. Leo, therefore, had
Idfurd to indulge his love of luxury and of art 5
and th6 Italians, itndcr his adminiftfation, to
cultivate the arts and fciences, which many other
favduj^able events confpired to promote. Print-
ing had been lately found out: the taking of
eonftantrno|yle by the Turks had made a difper-
fi<>n of the learned, many of whom took refuge
in Italy t Leo found, in the treafures accumulated
by Julhis' the Second, and in the ample revenues
of the pontificate, the means both of generofity
and of debauchery : and when the Pope, and thci
N houfts
17$ O N POE T R t
houfes of Medici and Montefeltro, had fct ct^
example, it became the fafhion all over Iuly> to
patronife genius, and encourage learning. The
firft efforts of a literary fpirit appeared in tran«
flating the Greek authors into Latin ; a tongue
which every fcholar was ambitious to acquire,
and in which many elegant compofitions^ both
Verfe and profe, were produced about this time
in I^aly. Fracaftorius, Sanazarius, Vida, diftin^
guifhed themfelves in Latin poetry ; Bembo, Ca-
fa, Manutius, Sigonius, in Latin profe. But ge-
nius feldom difplays itfelf to advantage in a fo-
reign tongue. The cultivation of the Tofcan
language, fince the time of Petrarcha, who flou-
riftied one hundred and fifty years before the pe-
riod we fpeak of, had been too much neglefted y
but was now rcfumcd with the nioft defirabla
fucccfs ; particularly by Taffo and Ariofto, who
carried the Italian poetry to its higheft per-
fection.
The other fine arts were no lels fortunate in
the hands of Raphael and Paleftina. What Ho-
mer was in poetry, thcfe authors w^re in painting
and mufic. Their works are ftfU regarded as
itandards of good tafte, and models for imita-
tion: and though improvement may no doubt
have been made fince^ their time, in fome inferior
Ijranches of their refpeftive arts, particularly in
what regards delicacy of manner; it may with
reafon be doubted, whether in grandeur of defign,
and ftrength of invention, they have as yet been
excelled or equalled. Greece owed much of her
a literary
A K b ivi d s i d ij^
mirzty glory to the rricrit of her ancient authors*
They at once fixed the fafhion in the feveral
ttitids of Writirig i and they happened to fix it
on the immoveable bafis of fimplicity and na-^
tUre. Had ndt the Italiah mufic in its infant
ftate fallen into the hands of a great genius like
Paleftina^ it would not haVc arrived at maturity
ib foon. A long fuccelfion of inferior cortipofersl
might have made difcoveries in the art, but could
not have raifed it above mediocrity : and fuch
people are not of influence enough to render a
liew Srt refpcftable in the eyes, eithet of the
learned, or of the vulgar. But Paleftina made
his aft sin bbjedt of admiration, riot only to his
own country, but to a great part of Europe. Ini
England he was fiudied and imitated by Tallis^
in the reign of Henry the Eighth. All good
judges wei'e fatisfiedj that this fyftem of harmony
was fQundedon right principles; and that, though
it might perhaps be imprpved, nothing in the
art could be | real improvement^ which was con-
tfadiftory to it.
In tKe age of Leo, a genius like Paleftina muft
have been diftinguifhed, even though the art he
profefled hadi gratified no important principle of
the human mind ; but as his art gratified the
religious principle^ he coufd hot fail,. in thofe
days, and among Italians, to me^t with tht^-
highcft encouragement. In fad, mufic fince that
time has been cultivated in Italy with the utmofi
i^ftention and fuccefs. Scarlatti, Corelli, Gemi-
i8o O N P O E T R Y
niani. Martini, Marcello, were all men of extra-
ordinary abilities -, and any one of them, ia the
circumftances of Paleftina, might perhaps have
been as eminent as he. Need we wonder, tljien,,
at the unequalled excellence of the Italian
mufic ?
But other caufes have contributed to thi$ cfFcft.
Nobody who underftands the language of mo-
dern Italy, will deny, that the natives have a pe-
culiar delicacy of perception in regard to vocal
fpund. This delicacy appears in the fweetncfs of
their verfe, in the cadence of their profe, and'
even in the formation and inflexion of their words.
Whether it be owing to the climate, or to the in-
fluence of the other arts j whether it be derivecf
from their Gothic anceftors, or from their more
remote forefathers of ancient Rome ; whether it
be the effed of weaknefs or of foundnefs in the
vocal and auditory organs of the people, this na- '
tional nicenefs of ear muft be confidered as one
caufe of the melody both of their fpeech and of
their mufic. They are miftaken who think the
Italian an eflfeminate language. Soft it is indeed,
and of eafy modulation, but fufceptible withal.
of the utmoft dignity of found, as well as of ele-
gant arrangement and nervous phrafeology. In
hiftory and oratory, it may boaft of miany excel-
lent models : and its poetry is far fuperior to that
of every other modern nation, except the Englifli..
And if it be true, that all mufic is originally
fong, the mod poetical nation would feem to
have the faireft chance to become the moft mu-
fical.
A N D M U S I C. i8i
fical. The Italian tongue, in ftrength and va-
riety of harmony, is not foperior,-and perhaps
not equal, to the Englifli *, but, abounding more
in vowels and liquid founds, and being therefore
more eafily articulated, is fitter for the purpofcs
of mufic : and it dcferves our notice, that poeti-
cal numbers were brought to perftfcion in Italy
two hundred years fooner than in any other, country
of modern Europe.
CHAP. VII.
Of Sympathy.
AS a great part of the pleafurc we derive from
poetry depends on our Sympathetic Feel-
ings, the pbilofophy of Sympathy ought to form
^ part of the fcience of Criticifm. On this fub-
jeft, therefore, I beg leave to fubjoin a few brief
remarks, that may poftibly throw light on fome of
the foregoing, as well as fubfequent reafonings.
When we confider the condition of anqther per-
fon, efpccially if it fceni to be pleafureable or
painful, we are apt to fancy ourfclves in the fame
condition, and to feel in fome degree the pain or
pleafure that we think we (hould feel if we were -
really in that condition. Hence the good of others
becomes in fome meafure our good, and their evil
our evil ; the obvious effeft of which is, to bind
men more clofely together in fociety, and prompt
them to promote the good, and relieve the di-
N '3 ftreffcs,
|8? ON POETRY
ftreflcs, of one another. Sympathy with ditttffy
is called Compaffion or Pity : Sympathy with hap^
pinefs I)as no particular name ; but, when cxpreflP-
ed in words to the hgppy pcrfon, is termed Cour
gratulation.
We fympathife, in fome degree, even with
things inanimate. To Ipfe a ftafF we have long
worn, to fee in ruins a houfe in which we havQ
long lived, may aflFeft us with a mqmentary con-
cern, though in point of value the lofs be nothing.
.With the dead we fympathife, and even with thofe
circumftances of their cqndition whereof we know
that they are utterly infenfible ; fuch as, their be-
Ing ihut up in a cold an4 folitary grave, exclude^
from the light of the fun, and from all the plea-
fures gf life, and liable in a few years to be for-!
gotten for ever. Towards the brute creation oui;
,fympathy is^ and ought to be, ftrong, they being
percipient creatures like ourfelvest A merciful
ban is merciful to his beaft; ancj that perfon
would be deemed melancholy pr hard-hearted,
who fhould fee the frilking Jamb, or hear thq
chearful fong of the lark, or obferye the tranfport
of the dog when he finds the mafter he had loft^
without any participation of their joy. There arc
few pq^ffagcs of defcriptive poetry into which we en-
ter with a more hearty fellowrfeeling, than where
Virgil and Lucretius paint fo admirably, the one
|he forrow of a fteer for the lofs of his fellow, thq
ether the afflidion of ^ cow deprived of her calf *f
f Virgil, Ccor^. ij!, vcrf, 519.5 Lucretius, ii. verf. 355.
1
A N D M U S I C |9|
But our iympathy exerts itfclf moft powerfully
towards our fellow-men : and, other circumilancc3
being equal, is ftronger or weaker, according as
they are more or lefs nearly connected with us,
and their condition more or lefs fimilar to ouf
own*
We often fympathife with one another, when
the perfon principally concerned has little fenfe of
either good or evil. We blufli for another's ill-
breeding, even when we know that he himfelf is
not aware of it. We pity a madman, though we
believe him to be happy in his phrcnfy. We
tremble for a mafon (landing on a high fcaffbld»
though we know that cuftom has made it familiar
to him. It gives us pain to fee another on the
brink of a precipice, though we be fecure our-
felves, and have no doubt of his circumfpedion.
In thefe cafes, it would fcem, that our fympathy
is raifcd, not fo much by our refledting on what
others really feel, as by a lively conception of
what they would feel if their nature were exaftly
fuch as ours ; or of what we ourfelves (hould feel,
if wc were in their condition, with the faipe fenti*
fnents we have at prefent *.
Many of our paflions may be communicated and
ftrengthened by fympathy. If we go into a chear-
ful company, we become chearful ; if into a
mournful one, we become fad. The prcfence of
a multitude engaged in devotion, tends to make
US devout. Cowards have behaved valiantly,
f 8cc Smith's Theory of Moral Senumcats, feft. i.
N 4 when
i84 O N P O E T R Y
when all their companions were v^lian^; and tho
timidity of a few ha$ ftruck a panic into a whole
army. — We are not, however, much inclined to
fympathife with violent gnger, jealoqfy, <fnvy,
malevolence, and other fanguinary or unnatu^l
paffions : we rather take part againft them, and
fympathife with thofe perfons who are in dan^r
from them j becaufe we can more eafily enter into
their diftrefs, and fuppofe ourfelves in their cpn-?
dition. But indignation at vice, particularly at
ingratitude, cruelty, treachery, and the like, whei^
we are well acquainted with the cafe, awakeas m
us a moft intenfe fellowrfeeling •, and the fatisfac-*
tion we are confcious of, when fuch crimes are
adequately ppnifhed, though fomcwhat ftern and
, gloomy, is however fincere, and by np means dis-
honourable or detrimental to our moral nature 5,
nor at all inconfiftent with that pity, which the
fufFerings of the criminal e:(tort from us, when we
are made to conceive them in a lively manner.
Of fympathy all men are not equally fufceptj^
ble. They who have a lively imagination, keen
feelings, apd whaf we call a tender h^art, are
moft fubjed to it. Habits of attention,, the ftudy
of the works of nature, and of the beft perform-
ances in art, ejcperience of advcrfity, the love of
virtue and of mankind, tend greatly to cberilH it|
^nd thpfe paffipns whereof felf is the objeft, a$
pride, felfrconceit, the love of money, fcnfuality,
^nvy, vanity, have a tendency np lefs powerful
^0 deftroy it. Nothing renders a man more ami-?
. ^blp, or rpqr? ufefvil, than ^ di^pofition to rejoice
with
A N D M U S I C. 1S5
wilk them that rejoice, and to weep with thofe that
weep ; to enter heartily, not officioufly, into the
concerns of his fellow^creaturcs ; to comply with'
the innocent humour of his company, more atten*v
tive to them than to himfelf ; and to avoid every
occafion of giving pain or offence. And nothing
but downright immorality is more difagree^ble^
than that perfon is, who affeAs bluntnefs of man-
ner, and would be thought at all times to fpeak
all that he thinks, whether people take it well or
ill ; or than thofe pedants are, of whatever profef-
fion- (for we have them of all profeffions), who,
without minding others, or entering into their
views of things, are continually obtruding them-
felves upon the converfation, and their own con-
cerns, and the fentiments and language peculiar
to their own trades and fraternities. This beh4^
viour, though under the name of plain-«dealing it
may arrogate a fuperiority to artificial rules, is ge-^
nerally the effeft of pride, ignorance, or ftupidi-
ty, or rather of all the three in conjunAion, A
ippdeft man, who fympathetically attends to the
condition and fentiments of others, will of his own:
accord make thofe allowances' in their favour,
which he wilhes to be made in his own \ and will
think it as much his diity to promote their happi-^
nefs, as he thinks it theirs to promote his. And
fuch a man is well principled in equity, as well a$
In goodrbreeding : and though, from an imperfeft
knowledge of forms, or from his having had but
few opportunities to put them in pradice, hi3
(P^nper may not t>$ fo graceful, or fo eafy, as
J could
iS$ ON POETRY
could be wilhed, he will never give offence to my
perfop of penetration and good-nature.
With feelings which we do not approve, or
have not experienced, wc are not apt to fympa-
thife. The diftrefs of the mifer when his hoard is
ftolcn, of the fop when he foils his fine jubilee
eloalhsy of the vaunting coxcomb when his lies are
dejteded, of the unnatural parent when his daugh-
ter efcapes with a dcferving lover, is niore likely
to move laughter th^n cpmpafliop. At Sparta,
eyery father h^d the privilege of correfting anjr
child 5 he who had experience of paternal tender-
ncfs being fuppofed incapable of wounding a pa*
rjent's fcnfibility by unjuft or rigorous chaftife^
ment. When the Cardinal of Milan would expoCr
tulate with the Lady Gonftance upon her violent
%rrow for the lofs of her child, fhe anfwers, but
without deigning to addrefs her anfwer to one who
flie knew could be no competent judge of her
cafe, " He fpeaks t9 me who never had a fon*/'
The Greeks and Romans were as eminent for pub-
lic fplrit, and for parental affeftion, as we 5 but,
for a reafon elfewhere affigned-f-, knew little of
that romantic love between unmarried perfons,
which modern manners and novels have a tenden^
cy to infpire. Accordingly the diftrefs in their
tfragedies often arofe from patriotifm, and from
the conjugal and filial charities, but not from the
pmantic paflion whereof we now fpeak. But
* King John, a£l 3, ftene 3.
•j* Efia;^ on Laughter, chap. 4,
thew
A N D M U S I C, 1JS7
there are few Englilh trag^ies, and ftill fewer
French, wherein fome love-affair is not conne£tec|
with the plot. This always raifes our fympathy ;;
but would not have been fo interefting to the
Greeks or Romans, becaufe they were not much
acquainted with the refinements of this paGion.
Sympathy, as the means of conveying certain
feelings from one breaft to another, might be
made a powerful inilrument of moral difcipline, i^f
poets, and other writers of fj^ble, were careful to
call forth our fenfibility towards thofe emotions
only that favour virtue^ and invigorate the human
mind. Fidions, that breathe the fpirit of patri-
otifm or valour; th^t make us fympathife with
(he parental, conjugal, or filial charities ; that re-
commend misfortune to our pity, or expofe crimes
p our abhorrence, may certainly be ufeful in ^
inoral view, by cherifhing paflions, that, while
they improve the heart, can hardly be indulged to
pxcefs. But thofe dreadful tales, that only give
anguiih to the reader, can never do any good ;
they fatigiie, enervate, and overwhelm the foul:
find when the calamities they defcribe are made to
fall upon the innocent, our moral principles are
in fome danger of a temporary depravation from
the perufal, whatever refemblance the fable may
be fuppofed to bear^ to the events of real life*
Some late authprs of fiftiqn feem to have thought
it incumbent upon them, not only to touch the
I)eart, but to tear it in pieces. They heap *• mis-
fortune on misfortune, grief on grief,** without
end, and without mercy : which difcompofes the
reader
i88 O N P O E T R Y
reader too much to give him either pleafufeor im-
provement i and is contrary to the praftice of the-,
wifer ancients, whofe moft pathetic fcenes were
generally (hort.
It is faid, that at the firft rcprcfcntation of the
Furies of Efchylus, the horror of the fpcftacle was
fo great, that feveral ^omen mifcarried; which
was indeed pathos with a vengeance. But though
the truth of that ftory fliould be queftioned, it ad-
mits of no doubt, that objc6ld»of grief and horror
too much enlarged on by the poet or novelift may
do f^ore harm than good, and give more pain
than pleafure, to the mind of the reader. Surely
this muft be contrary to the efl^ntial rules of art,
whether we confider poetry as intended to pleafe
that it may inftruft, or to inftrudl that it may the
more .efFedually pleafe. And fuppofing the real
evils of life to be as various and important as is
commonly believed, we muft be thought to con-
fult our own intereft very abfurdly, if we feek to
torment ourfelves with imaginary misfortune.
Horace infinuates, that the ancient Satyric Drama
(a fort of burlefque tragi-comedy) was contrived
for the entertainment of the more diforderly part
of the audience* ; and our critics affure us, that
the modern farce is addrefled to the upper gallery,
where, it is fuppofed, there is no great relifli for
the fublime graces of the Tragic Mufe. Yet I be-
Jicve thefe tittle pieces^ when confident with dccen*
f:y, will he found neither unpleafant nor unproft-^
• tJor, Ar. Poet. vcr£ zaj,
tabic
A N D M U S I C. 189
table^^vea to the moft learned fpoftator. A cnan»
efpecially if advanced in years, would not chufe to
go home Mi;ith that gloom upon his mind which an
aS^^ling tragedy is intended to difiufe ; and if the
play hsu conveyed any found inftrudlion, there is
no ri(k of its being difCpated by a little innocent
mirth.
Upon the fame principle, I confefs, that I am
not offended with thofe comic fcenes wherewith
Qur great Dramatic Poet has thought proper to ^U
vcrfify his tragedies. Such a licence will at lead:
be allowed to be more* pardon able in him, than k
would be in other Tragic poets. They muft make
their way to the heart, as an army does to aftrong
fortification* by (low and regular approaches ; be-
caufe they cannot, like Shakefpeare, take it ac
once,, and by ftorm. In their pieces, therefore, a
mixture of comedy might have as bad an effed, as
if befiegers were to retire from the outworks they
had gained, and leave the enemy at leifure to for-
tify them a fecond time. But Shakefpeare pene-
trates the heart by a fingle effort, and can make
us as fad in the prefent fcene, as if we had not
been, merry in the former. With fuch powers as
he po0efied in the pathetic, if he had made his
tragedies uniformly mournful or terrible from be
ginning to end, no perfon of fenfibility would have
been able to fupport the reprcfentation. — As to the
probability oi thefe mixed compofitions, it admits
of no doubt. Nature every where prefcnts a fimi-
lar mixture of tragedy and comedy, of joy and
fQrrow, of laughter and folemnity, in the common
affairs
i9d ON PbEtilV
affairs of life. The fervants of a court know little
of what paflfes among princes and ftatefmen, ancf
may thereforci like the porter in Macbeth, btf
very jocular when their fuperiors are in deep di-
flrefs. The death of a favourite thild is a great
afflidion to parents and friends -, but the ftiah wha
digs the grave may, like Goodman Delver in Ham-»*
let, be very chearful while he is going about his
work. A cotifpiracy may be dangerous ; but the
conilable who apprehends the traitors may, like!
Dogberry, be a ludicrous character, and his very
abfurdities may be inftrumedtal in bringing the
plot to lights as well as in delaying or haftening
forward the difcovery. I grant, that compofi-
tions, like thofe I would now apologize for, , cart-
riot properly be called either taagedics or corner
dies : but the name is of no confcquencc j let
them be called Plays : And if in them nature is
imitated in fuch a way as to give pleafure and in-^
ftruftion, they arc as well entitled to the denomr-
nation of Dramatic Poemsy as any thing in Sopho^
C\ts^ Racine, or Voltaire. But to return :
Love is another *' tyrant of the throbbing
breaft," of whom they who wifli to fee the ftage
transformed into a fchool of virtue, complain, chat
bis influence in the modern drama is too defpoticali/
Love, kept within due bounds, is no doubt, as
the fong fays, " a gentle and a generous paffion ;"
but no other paffion has fo ftrong a tendency to'
tranfgrefs the due bounds : and the frequent con-
templation of its various ardours and agonies, asr
tiftbibited in plays and novels, can fcarce fail to'
eaervattf
AND M U S t C. i^i
enervate the mind, and to raife emotions and fym-
pathies unfriendly to innocence. And certain it
is, that fables in which there is neither love noif
gallantry, may be made highly iAterefting even to
the fancy and afiefbions of a modern reader. This
appears, not only from the writings of Shake-
fpeare, and other great authors, but from the Pil-
grimes Progrefs of Bunyan, and the hiftory of Ro-
binfon Crufoe : than which laft, there is not pet^
haps in any language a more interefting narrative y
or a tale better contrived for conveying a lively
idea of the importance of the mechanic arts, of the ,
iweets of focial life, and of the dignity of inde-
pendence^
f ART.
ipz O K P O E T R ir
!
PA R T IL
OF T Hfi
LANGUAGE of POETRY,
HAVING finKhed whtE t i^ended to % oil
the general nature of Poetry^ as an Imita^
tive Art, I proceed to confidcr the instrument
which it employs in its imitations ; or, in othcif
words, to explain the General Nature of PoETid
Language* For language is the poet's inftrument
of imitation, as found is the mufician's, and colour
the painter's* My conclufions on this pare of the
fubjedb will be found to coincide with the prin«
ciples already laid dos^n.
Words in Poetry are chofen, firft, for their
fenfei and, fecondly, for their found. I fhall
conlider Poetical Language, firfl:, as significant i
and, fecondly, as susceptible of harmony^
CHAi*.
A N D M U S I C. 193
CHAP. I.
Of Poetical Language^ confidered as Jignijicant.
IF, as I have endeavoured to prove. Poetry be
imitative of Nature, poetical Bdions 6f regl
events, poetical images of real appearances in thf
vifible creation, and poetical perfonages of real
human characters ; it would feem to follow, t^/it
the language of Poetry muft be an imitation of the
language of Nature. For nothing but what i$ fup-
pofed to be natural can pleafe ; and language, as
well as fable, imagery, and moral defcription,
may difpleafe, by being unnatural*— -What then is
meant by Natural Language? This comes to be
the firft inquiry.
SECT. 1.
Jn idea of Natural Language.
'T^HE term Natural Language has fometimes
been ufed by philofophers to denote thofe
tones of the human voice, attitudes of the body,
and configura^tions of the features, which, being
naturally expreOive of certain emotions of the foul,
are untverfal among mankind, and every where
ilnderftood. Thus anger, fear, pity, adoratbn,
joy, contempt^ and almoft every other paffion, has
O alooky
194 ONPOETRY
a look, attitude, and tone of voice, peculiar to it-
felf -, which would fcem lo be the efFeft, not of
men imitating one another, but of the foul ope-
rating upon the body; and which, when well ex-
preflTed iti a picture or ftatue, or when it appears in
human behaviour, is underftood by all mankind^
as the external fign rf that paffion which it is for
the moft partobfervcd to accompany. In this ac-
ceptation, natural language is contradiftinguifted
to thofe articulate voices to which the name c^
fpenb has been appropriated ; and which are aUb
univerfal among mankind, though dUSn^eat in
different nations; but derive aH their meanpg
ifom human compad and ani^e^ and are not
underftood except by thofe who have been in-
ftruAed in the ufe of them.~*But in this inquiry
the term Natural Lat^wi^ denotes ^at lafe of
fpeech, or of artificial language^ which is fukaUe^
to the fpeaker and to the occafion* ^* Proper
*' words in proper places,** is Swift*s definition of
a good ftyle ; aad may with ei|ual propriety ferve
for a definition of that flyle, or mode of language^
which is here called Naiural^ in contradiftinftion^
not to artificial (itfelf being artificial) but to Unna--
tural\ and which it is the poet's bufinefi to imitate.
I fay, to imiiate: for as poets (for a reafoii already
given) copy nature, not as it is, but in that fttce
of perfedion, wherein, eonfiftMtly with verifimi*
litude, and with the genius of ihek work, k may
be fuppoied to be ; and ape therefore laid to imi*
t^t€ nature, that is, to give a view of natuie fimi-
iar to, but fomewhat diStrent froa\ the tetSixjfX
50,
AND MUSIC.
»95
SOj in forming poetical language, they muft take
for their model'human fpeech, no( in that imper*
fe& date wherein it is u&d on the common occa*
fions of life, but in that date of perfeAion, where-
in, confifteatly with verifimilitude, it may befup*
pofed to be fufcepcible.
But, as we cannot eftimate the perfefbion or im-
perfection of poetical imagery, till we know the
natural appearance of the thing defcribed ; fo nei*
thcr can we judge of this pcrfcftion of human
fpeech, till we have formed fome idea of that qua-
lity of language which is here exprefled by the
e[HChet natural That fome modes of language
are more natural than others, and that one mode
may be natural at one time which at another
would be unnatural, mud: be evident even tothofe
who never ftudied criticifm. Would foft words,
for example, be natural in the mouth of a very
angry man ? or do even the vulgar expeft bluftcr-
ing cxpreffions from him who melts with pity, or
love, or forrow ? Between groans and pain, tears
and grief, laughter and jocularity, trembling and
fear, the connexion is not more iiiatural, than be-
tween .certain fentiments of the numan mind ami
certain modifications of human Janguage.
Natural language and good language are not the
fame i and Swift's definition, which is equally ap«
plicable to both, will not perhaps be found to ex-
prels adequately the charaderiftic of either. The
qualities of good language are perfpicuity, fimpli-
city, elegance, energy, and barnKMiy« But lan-
guage 0xay poifefs all thefe qualities, and yet not
O a be
196 ONPOETRY.
be natural Would . the Anacreontic or Ovididn
fimplicity be natural in the mouth of Achilles up-
braiding Agamemnon with his tyranny and injuf-
tice ; or of Lear defying the tempeftuous elements,
and imprecating perdition upon his daughters ?
Would that pcrfpicuity which we juftly admire in
Cato's foliloquy •, be accounted natural in Ham-
let's t, by thofc who know, that the former is fup-
pofed to fpeak with the rationality of a pKilofo-
pher, and the latter with the agitation of a young
man tortured to madnefs with forrow and tove,
difappotntment and revenge ? Would language 6>
magnificent as that in which the fublime Othello
fpeaks of the pomps and honours of war, be na*
tural in the mouth of the foft, the humble, the
broken-hearted Defdemona bewailing her unhappy
fate? Or would the fonorous harmony of the
Dithyrambic fong, or Epic poem, fuit the fimpli-
city of (hepherds, contending in alternate vcrfe,
and praifing their miftreffes, putting forth riddks*
or making remarks upon the weather ?— Yet lan-
guage muft always be fo far fimple as to have no
fuperfiuous decoratioa; fo far perJpicuous, as to
let us fee clearly what is meant ; and fo far ele-
gant, as to give no ground to fufpedt the author
of ignorance, or wAnt of tafte.
Good language is determinate and abfolute. We
know it wherever we meet with it 5 we may feirn
to fpeak and write it from books alone. Wheditr
« It mud be fo. Plato, tkou realoA'ft well, &c.
f To hci or not to be, &c.
pronounced
A N D M U S I C; 197
pronounced by a clown or a hero, a wiie man or
an idiot, language is fiill good if it be according
to rule. But natural language is fomething not
abfolute but relative; and can be eftimated by
thofe only, who have ftudied men as well as
books ; and who attend to the real or fuppofed
charader of the fpeaker, as well as to the import
of what is fpoken.
There are fevcral particulars relating to the
fpeaker which we mtfft attend to, before we can
judge whether his expreflion be naturaU — It is ob-
vious, that his temper muft be taken into the ac-
count. From the fiery and pallionate we expe£t
one fort of language, from the calm and moderate
another. That impetuofity which is natural in
Achilles, would in Sarpedon or Ulyfles be quite
the contrary; as the mellifluent copioufnefs of
Neftor would ill become the blunt rufticity of
Ajax. Thofe diverfities of temper, which make
men think differently on the fame occafion, will
alio make them fpeak the fame thoughts in a dif-
ferent manner. And as the temper of the fame
man is not always uniform, but is varioufly afFefk-
ed by youth and old age, and by the prevalence of
prefent paffions ; fo neither will that ftyle which is
moft natural to him be always uniform, \>u% may
be energetic or languid, abrupt or equable, figu-
rative qr plain, according to th^ pafHons or fenti-
tpents that may happen to predominate in his
mind. And hence, to judge whether his language
be natural, we muft attend, not only to the habi-
tual temper, biit alfo to the pre/ent paffions^ and
O 3 even
198 ONPOETRT
even to the age of the fpeaker — Nor (hould we
overlook his intelle£lual pecultariiies. If his thoughts
be confufed or indiftindl, his ftylc muft be imm^-
thodical and obfcure ; if the former be much di-
verfified, the latter will be equally copious. — The
external circumjtances of the fpeaker, his rank and
fortune, his education and company, particularly
the two laft, have no little influence in charadter-
ifing his ftyle. A clown and a man of learning, a
pedantic and a polite fcholar, a hulban^man and
a fddicr, a mechanic and a feaman, reciting the
fame narrative, will, each of them, adopt a pecu-
liar mode of expreffion, fuitablc to the Ideas that
Occupy his mind, and to the language he has been
accuftomed to fpeak and hear: And if a poet,
who had occafion to introduce thefe characters in
a comedy, were to give the fame uniform colour
of language to them all, the ftyle of that comedy,
however elegant, would be unnatural.— Our lan-
guage is alfo afFedtcd by the very thoughts wo
utter. When thefe are lofty or groveling, there is
a corrcfpondent elevation or meannefs in the laiv
guage. The ftylc of a great man is generally fim^
pie, but fcldom fails to partake of the dignity
and energy of his fentiments. In Greece amt
Itome, the corruption of literature was a confe-
quence of the corruption, of manners 1 and the
manly fimplicity of the old writers difappeared, a^
the nation became effeminate and fervilc. Horace
^ Longinus * fcruple not to afcribe the decline
• Hpr* ht. Pod;. Ycrt zz^.^az* Loaginus, fid. 9. 44.
of
AND M U S I a 199
of eloquence, in their day8» to a littlenefs of mind,
the cffc6t of avarice and luxury. The words of
Longinus arc remarkable : " The truly eloquent
^* (fays he) mud poifefs an exalted and noble
*• mind ; for it is not poffible for thofe who have
«• all their lives been employed in fcrvile purfuits,
^^ to produce any thing worthy of immortal re*
** nown or general admiration." In faft, our
words not only are the figns, but may be confider^
€d as the pi£tures of our thoughts. The iame
glow or faintnefs of colouring, the fame confift-
ency or incoherence, the fame proportions of great
and little, the fame degrees of elevation, the fanae
light and fhade, that diftinguifh the one, will be
found to charafterife the other) and from fuch a
cburadber as Achilles or Othello we as naturally ^x«
peft a bold, nervous, and animated phrafeology,.
as a manly voice and commanding gefture; — It is
hardly neceilary to add, that ftyle, in order to be
natural, mull be adapted to the fex and to the
noHonoi the fpcakcr. Thefc circumftances give »
peculiarity to humai^||ought, and muft therefore
diverfify the modes of human language. I will
t)OC^ fay, as fome have done, that a lady is always
difUnguiihable by her flyle and hand- writing, as
well as by. her voice and features ; but I believe it
may be truly faid, that female converfation, even
wiien learned or philofophical, has, for the moft
part, an eaie and a delicacy, which the greateft
mafters of language would find it difficuk to imi^
tate. The fbyle that Shakefpeare has given to Ju^
liet's Qurie» Mfs^ Quickly, Dddemooa^ or $a^
O 4 tharine.
MO ON/POETRY
tharinr, would not fuit any male ; nor the phrafe-
ology of Dogberry or Petruchio, Piftol or Falftafli
any female charader.— iViy/wi?^/ peculiarities are
alfo to be attended to by thofe who ftudy natural
language in its full extent. We fhould expe/St a
copious and flowery ftyle from an Afiatic mo-
narch, and a concife and flgurative expreffion from
an Indian chief. A French marquis, and a
country-gentleman of England, would not uie
the fame phrafes on the fame fubjeft, even though
they were fpeaking the fame language with equal
fluency. And a vakt^de-^cbambre newly imported
from Paris, or a Scotch footman who had been
born and bred in Edinburgh, appearing in an
Englilh comedy, or farce, would be cenfured as.
an 4innatural charaAer, if the poet were to make
him /peak pure Englilh.
May we not infer, from what has been faid, that
" Language is then according to nature, when it
** is fuitable to the fuppofed condition of the
** fpeaker ?"~meaning by the word condition^ not
only the outward circumftances of fortune^ rank^
employment^ fex^ age^ and nation^ but alfo the in*
ternal temperature of the under/landing and paj/ions^
as well as the peculiar nature of the thoughts that
may happen to occupy the mind. Horace fcems
to have had this in view, when he faid, that " if
•* what is fpoken on the ftage fliall be unfuitablc;
^^ to the fortunes of the fpeaker, both the learned
'< and unlearned part of the audience will be fen-
•• fible of the impropriety :— For that it is of
?• great importance to the poet to confidcr, wbe-
^* ther
A N D M U S I C. Qfit
«« ther the pcribn fpcaking be a flavc or a hero 5 ft
*' man of mgturc age, or warm with the paffions
^' of youth I a lady of rank, or a buftlingmsrfci
*' a luxurious Aflyrian, or a cruel nati^^e of Col-
^' chis; a mercaQtilfs traveller, or a ftattonar/
*' huibandman; an acute Argive, pradullBco-
« tian*^/*.
But Horace's remark, it may be faid, refers to
the ftyle of the drama ; whereas wc would extend
ic to poetry, and even to compofition, in gene-
raL And ic may be thought, that in thofe writ-
ings wherein the imitation of human life is lefs
perfcft, as in the Epic pbem, or wherein the ftyle
is uniformly elevated and pure, asjn Hiftory and
Tragedy, this rule of language is not attended
to. In what refpeft, for example, can the ftyle
of Livy or Homer be faid to be fuitable to the
condition of the fpeaker ? Have we not, in each
author, a great variety of fpeechcs, afcribcd to
men of different nations, ranks, and charaders ;
who are all, notwithftanding, made to utter a
langU2^e, that is not only grammatical, but ele-
gant and harmonious ? Yet no reader is offended;
4nd no critic ever faid, that the ftyle of Homer
pr Livy is unnatural.
The objedion is plaufible. But a right exa-
mination of it will be found not to weaken, but
(o confirm and ill uft rate the prefent do6trine. I
fay, then, that language is natural, when it is
fuited to the fuppofed condition and circum-
Ranees of the fpeaker.-*^Now, in hiftory, the
• Hor. At, Poet. verf. 1 1 «.
fpeaker
2Q2 ON POETRY
ipeaker is no othor than the hiilorian himfelf ^
who claims the privilege of telling his tale in
hi$op»n way; ^nd of exprefling the thoughts of
other men, where he has occafion to record them»
in bis own language. All this we mull allow to
be natural^ if we fuppofe him to be ferious.
For every man, who fpeaks without affeftation,
hfis a ftyle and a manner peculiar to himfelf. A
pq^n of learning and eloquence, recapitulating
<» any folemn occafion the fpeech of a clown,
would not be thought in earneft, if he did not
exprefs himfelf with his wonted propriety. It
would be difficult, perhaps he would find it im-
poffible, to imitate the hefitation, barbarifms,
and broad accent, of the poor man ; and if he
were to do fo, he would affront his audience,
and, in (lead of being thought a natural fpeaker,
or capable of conducting imporiant bufinefs,
would prove, himfelf a mere buffoon. Now an
hiftorian is a perfon who aiTumes a character of
great dignity, and addrefles himfelf to a moft
rerpe^abip audience. He undertakes to commu*
nicate information, not to his equals only or in-
feriors, but to the greatefl, and rnofl learned men
upon earth. He wifhes them to liften to him,
aftd to liften with pleafure, to believe his tefti-
mony, and treafure up his fayings as lefibns of
wifdom, to direft them in the condu6k of life,
and in the government of kingdoms. In fo awful
a prcfence, and with, views fo elevated, what ftyle
is it natural for him to aiiume? A ftyle uni-
formly ferious, aod elegant, clear, orderly, and
emphatical.
A N D M U S I C. »o3
emphaticaJ, fct off with modeft prnafncnts to ren-
der it pleafing, yet plain and fimple, and fuch
as becomes a man whofe chief concern it is to
know and ddircr the truth. The morallfl: and
the preacher are in finmilar circumftanfcs, and'
will naturally adopt a fimilar ftyle : only a more
fubKme and more pathetic energy, and language
Hill plainer than that of the hiftorian, though not
lefs pure, will with reafon be expcdled from
thofe, who pronounce the diftates of divine wif-
dom, and profefs to inftruft the meaneft, as well
as the greateft of mankind, in matters of eveiw
lafting importance.
When a man, for the public amufement, rf-
fames any charader, it is not neceflary, nor pot
fible, for him to impofe upon us fo far as to
make us believe him to be the very pcrfon he rc-
prcfents ; but we have a right to expeft that his
behaviour fhall not belie his prctenfions in any
thing material. With all his powers of incanta-
tion, Garrick himfelf will never be able to charm'
us into a belief, that be is really Macbeth: all
that can be done he does; he fpeaks and ads juft
as if he were that perfon : and this is all that the
public requires of him. Were he to fall fliort,—
or rather (for we need not fuppofe what will never
happen)— were any other tragedian to fall fhort of
our expedations, and plead, by way of excufc,
that truly he was neither a king nor a traitor,
neither an ambitious nor a valiant man, and there-
fore ought not to be blamed for not ading as be«
comes ones we ihould more eafily pardon the'
faulty
ao4 O N P O E T R Y
fault, than the apology. — Now it is very true,
that an Epic poet is no more infpired than any
other writer, and perhaps was never ferioufly be-.
lieved to be fo. But as he lays claim to infpira-
tionj and before the whole world profeffes to dif-
play the moft. interefting and moft marvellous
events, to be particularly informed in regard to,
the thoughts as well as actions of men, and to
know the aflPairs of invifible beings and the eco-
nomy of unfeen worlds ; we have a right to expcft
from him a language as much elevated above that
of hiftory and philofophy, as his afTumed character
and pretenfions arc higher than thofe of the hifto-
rian and philofophen From fuch a man, fuppofed
to be invefted with fuch a charafter, we have in-,
deed a right to require every poffible perfedion of
human thought and language. And therefore, if
he were to introduce mean perfons talking in their
own dialefi:, it would be as unnatural; as if a great
orator, on the mofl* folemn occaiion, were to lifp
and pratcle like a child ; or a hero to addrefs his
viftorious army in the jargon of a gypfy or pick-
pocket.
In the Epopee, the Mufe, or rather the Poet, is.
fuppofed to fpeak from beginning to end ; the in-
cidental orations afcribcd to Therfites or Neftor,
to Ulyfles or Polypheme, to Afcanius or Eneas, to
Satan or Raphael, not being delivered, as in tra-^.
gcdy, by the feveral fpeakers in their own perfons,.
but rehearfed by the poet in the way of narrative.
Thcfe orations, .therefore, muft not only he adapt-
ed to the characters of thofe to whom they are
afcribedj^
A N D M U S I C. 205
afcribed, and to the occafion upon which they are
fpoken, but muft alfo partake of the fuppofed
dignity of the poet's charaftcr. And if fo, they
mud: be elevated to the general pitch of the com*
polition ; even though they be faid to have been
ujttered by perfons from whom^ in common life^
elegance of ftyle would not have been expeSed.
And a certain degree of the fame elevation muft
adhere to every defcription in Epic poetry, though
the thing defcribed (hould be comparatively un«
important :~-Which is no more than we naturally
look for, when an eloquent man, in a folemn af-
fembly, gives a detail of ordinary events, or reca-
pitulates, in his own ftyle and manner, the fenti-
ments of an illiterate peafant. So that in the Epic
poem (and in all fcrious poetry, narrative or di«
da£tive, wherein the poet is the ipeaker), language,
in order to be natural, muft be fuited to the af-
fumed pr fuppofed charafter of the poet, as well
. as to the occafion and fubjeA« Polyphemus, in a
farce or comedy, might fpeak clownifhly ; becaufe
he there appears in perfon, and rufticity is his cha*
rafter : But Homer and Virgil, rehearfing a fpeech
, of Polyphemus, would indeed deliver thoughts
fuitable to his charafter and condition, but would
«xprefs them in their own elegant and harmonious
language.— And hence w^ (ee, how abfurdly thole
critics argue, who blame Virgil for making Ene^;
too poetical (as they phrafe it) in the account he
gives Dido of his adventures. They might with
equal reafon affirm, that every perfon in the Iliad
and Odyftey, as well as Eneid, fpeaks too poeti-
cally.
^o6 ON POETRY
cally. The tniftikc arifes from confotinding Epic
with Dramatic compofition, and fuppofiiig that the
Jicroes both oi the one and of the other fpeak m
their own perfons. Whereas, in the firft the poet
is the only ipeaker, and in the laft iie never fpeaks
at all t Nay^ the firft is nothing more, from be-
ginning to end, but a narration, or ^ech, deli-
vered by a petfon aifluming, and pretending to
ftipport, the character of an infpired poet, fo
the ftylc, therefore, of the Epopee, the poetic
charafter, muft every where predominate, as Well
as the heroic ; becairfc a fpcech, in order to ap-
pear natural, muft be fuited tpthe foppofed cba-
rader of the fpeaker, as well as to the things and
perfons fpoken of.
The puns that Milton afcribes to his devils, on
a certain occafion*, are generally and jirilly con-
demned. It has, however, been urged, as an
apok^y for them, that they are uttered by evil
beings, who may be ftrppofed to have left, when
they fell, all tafte for elegance, as well as for vir-
tuc -, and that the poet, ojn this one occafion,
might have intended to make them both deteftaWe
as tievils, and delpicable as bufibons. But this
plea cannot be admitted. For the fiends ot Mil-
ton, notwithftanding thefr extreme Wickednefs,
retain an elcvat'ron of mind, without which thty
touH not have appeared in an Epic poem, and
-which is inconfifrent with the futility of a butfobn
or witling. Granting, then (what is not likely),
* Paradlfe LoS^ book 6. verC £09*— *627«
that
^ A N D M 4U S I C. ao;
that the poet, in this one inftance» meant to ren^
der them contemptible for their low wit, he muft
yet be blamed for afligning them a part fo repug-
nant to their general charafter. Or, even if he
coald be vindicated on this fcore, he is liable
CO trenfure for having put fo paltry a part of his
Yiarration in the mouth vOf the holy angd Raphad.
Or, if even for this we were to pardon him, ftiH
he is inexcufable, for having forgotten the af-
fdmed dignity of his own charader fo far, as to
retail tbofe wretched quibbles; which, whether
we fuppofe them to .be uttered by an angel, a
devil, or ^n epic poet, are unnatur^, beamle
ufifuitabk to the condition and charadter of the
fpeaken — A mind poiTelTed with great ideas doei
not naturally attend to fuch as are trifling \ and,
while aduated by admiration, and other impor«
tant emotions, will not be apt to turn its view to
^ Who that, from Alpine heights, his labouring eye
Shoots round the wide horizon, to ftirvey
The Nile or Ganges roll his wafteful tide
Throogh moBiatains» plains, through eittpires Uadc widk
ihade.
And continents of find, will turq his gaze
To mark the windings of a fcancy rill,
* That murmurs at his feet ?
Plufiiret ^ ImaginaHm^ itoi u
^ The medStiifoDS,'* ftyi a very ingenious writer (peaking of
^ view from Mount Etna), ** are ever elevated in propoitM
'^* to the graodear and fublimity of the oljedls that forroaad us $
«< and here, where yoa have all^natnre to roufe your imagio»»
** tioB, Whatman can remain inafiive t*' See the whole pa&
fage; which, from its foblimity, otie would be tempted to think
had been compofcd on the fpot. Bfyd^tu^^ Travels Jmer lo.
thofe
4
ic8 O N P O £ T R Y
thofc thiftgs that provoke cdntempt or laughter.
.Suqh we fuppofe the mind of every fublime 'wri-
ter to be ; and fuch in faft It muft be, as long at
leaft as he employs himfelf in fublittie conipofi-
tion. Mean language, thi^refore, or ludicrous
fentiment, are unnatural in an Epic poem,4br
this reafon, among others^ that they do not na»
turally occur while one is compofing it. And
hence Milton's humorous defcription of the lim-
io of yamty\ however juft as an allegory, how-
ever poignant as a fatire, ought not to have ob*
tained a place in Paradife Loit. Such a thing
might fuit the volatile genius of Ariofto and his
followers; but is quite unworthy of the fober
and well-principled difciple of Hbmer and VirgiK
In Dramatic Poetry, the perfons aft and fpeak
in their own charafter, and the author never ap*
pears at all. An elevated ftyle may, however^ be
natural in tragedy, on account of the high rank of
the perfons, and of the important affairs in which
they are engaged* Even Comedy, who tAkes her
characters from the middle and lower ranks of
mankind, may occafionally lift up her voicc^ as
Horace fays -[-, when (he means to give utterance
to any impo;-tant emotion, or happens to introduce
a perfonage of more than ordinary dignity. — But
what if perfons of iow condition ihould make their
appearance in Tragedy ? And as the great muft
have att;endants, how can this be prevented ? And
if fuch perfons appear, will not their language be
• Paradife Loft, book 3, verf. 444.
f Hof. Ar. Po€U vwf* 92,
unnatural i
A N D M U S I a 209
unnatural, if raifed to a level with that of tHeir
fuperiors ? Or, would it not give a motley caft to
the poem, if it were to fall below that level ?— No
doubt, an uniform colour of language, though not
cffential to Tragi-comedy, or to the Hiftoric
drama, is indifpenfable in a regular tragedy.' But
pcrfons of mean rank, if the tragic poet find it
neceffary to bring them in, may eafily be fuppofed
to have Had advantages of education to qualify
them for bearing a part in the dialogue, or for
any other office in which he may think proper to
employ them; Befides, language admits of many
degrees of elevation; and a particular turn of
fancy, or temperature of the paffions, will fome-
times give wonderful fublimity to the Ityle even of
a peafant or of a favage. So that the ftyle of tra- ^
gedy, notwithftanding its elevation, may be as
various as the characters and paffions of men, and
may yet in each variety be natural. — Moreover,
the fubjeft, and confequently the emotions, of
tragedy, are always important; and important
emotions prevailing in the mind of a peafant will
exalt and invigorate his language. When the old
Ihepherd in Douglas exclaims, " Bleft be the day
" that made me a poor man ; My poverty has
« faved my mafter's houfe ;'' the thought and the
words, though fufficiently tragical, have no greater
elevation, than we fliould exped from any perfon
of his charafter and circumftances. Simplicity of
ftyle, for which none are difqualified by the mean-
nefsof their condition, pften enforces afublime or
pathetic fcntiment with the happieft efFeft Let
P it
aia O N P O E T R Y
it be bhTerved further, 4:hat poetical language is an
imicatiott of real language improved to a ftatte ^
per&Aion^ and therefore, that the ftyle of tFagc^-
47, though raifed above that of common life, wiU
never offend, fo long as its elevations are at all
confident with probability. In faft, when the
paffions are well exprefled, and the characters well
drawn, a tragic poet needs not fear, that he fhalt
be found fault with for the elegance of his lan«
guage I though no doubt a great mafter will sih
ways know how to proportion the degree of ele-
gance to the character of the fpeaker.
Xhe dignity of a Tragic hero may be fo great
as to require an elevation of language equal to the
pitch of Epic poetry itfelf. This might be exem-
plified from many of the fpeeches of Lear, Othel-
lo, Hamlet, and Cato, and of Samfon in the Ago*
niftes. But, in general, the Epic, ftyle is to be
diftinguilhed from the Tragic, by a more uniform
elevation, and more elaborate harmony : Becaufe
a poet, affuming the character of calm infpiradon,
and rather relating the feelings of others, than ex-
prcffing his own, would fpeak with more compo*
lure, fteadinefs, and art, than could reafonably be
expected from thofe who deliver their thoughts ac-
cording to the immediate impulfe of paffion.
The language of Comedy is that of common
life improved in point of correCtnefs, but not
much elevated ; — both becaufe the fpeakers arc of
the middle and lower ranks of mankind, and alfo
becaufe the affairs they are engaged in give little
fcope to thofe emotions that exalt the mifid, and
roufe
A N D M U S I C. tit
roufc the imagination. As to the ftyle of farce^
which is frequently blended with comedy;— it
is puipofely degraded below that of common
life 5 or rather, it is the ridiculous language of '
common life made more ridiculous, I have al-
ready remarked, that Farce is to Poetry, what
Caricatura is to Painting ; as in the lad we look
for no beauty of atritiide or feature, fo neither in
the firft do we cxpeft elegance of didlion. Ab-
furdity of thought produces abfurdity of words
and behaviour : the true farcical character is more
extravagantly and more uniformly abfurd^ than
the droll of real life ; and his language, in order
to be natural, mufl: be exaggerated accordingly*
Yet as nothing is efteemed in the fine arts, but
what difplays the ingenuity of the artift, I (hould
imagine, that, even in a farce, one would not
receive much pleafure from mere incongruity of
words or adions ; bec^ufe that may be fo eafily
invented. Studied abfurdity cannot be enter-
taining, unkfs it be in fome degree uncom-
mon*.
We may therefore repeat, and lay it down as
a maxim,' That " language is natural, when it
*« is fuited to the fpeakcr*s condition, charadker,
** and circumftances/' And as^ forvthemoft. part,
the images and fentiments of Jerious poetry arc
copied from the images and fentiments, not of
reali but of improved, pature f; fo the knguage
• Eflay on Laughter, chap. 3.
t Sw above part 1. chap. 3, 4, 5.
P 2 of
2ii O N F O E T R Y
of fcrious poetry muft (as hinted already) be A
tranfcript, not of the real language ,of nature^
which is often diffonant and rude, but of natu-
tural language improved as far as may be con-
fiftent with probability, and with the fuppofed
charadler of the fpeaken If this be not the cafe,
if the language of poetry be fuch only as we hear
in converfation, or read in hiftory, it will, in-
ftead of delight, bring difappointment: becaufc
it will fall ftiort of what we expeft from an art
which is recommended rather by its pleafurable
qualities, thaii by its intrinfic utility ; and to
which, in order to render it pleafing, we grant
higher privileges, than to any other kind of li-
terary compofition, or any other mode of hunian
language.
The next inquiry muft therefore be, " How
*' is the language of nature to be improved ?"
or rather, " What are thofe improvements that
peculiarly belong to the language of poetry ?"
u
SECT, II.
Natural language is improved in poetry by the ufe of
poetical words.
QN E mode of improvement peculiar to poe-
tical diaion refults from the ufe of thofe
words, and phrafes, which, becaufc they rarely
occur in profe, and frequently in vcrfc, are by
the
AND MUSIC. 213
the grammarian and lexicographer termed Poetic
£aL In thefe fome languages abound more than
others : but no language I am acquainted with is
altogether without them ; and perhaps no lan-
guage can be fo, in which any number of good
poems have been written. For poetry is better
remembered than profe, efpecially by poetical
authors; who will always be apt to imitate the
phrafeology of thofe they have been accullomed
to read and admire : and thus, in the works of
poets, down through fucceflive generations, cer-
tain phrafcs may have been conveyed, which,
though originally perhaps in common ufe, are
pow confined to poetical compofition. Profe-
wxiters are not fo apt to imitate one another, at
leaft in words and phrafes 5 both becaufe they do
not fo well remember one another's phrafeology,
and alfo betaufe thejr language is lefs artificial,
and muft not, if they would make it eafy and
flowing (without which it cannot be elegant),
depart efientially from the ftyle of corre6t conver-
fation. >Poets too, on account of the greater dif^
ficulty of their numbers, have, both in the choice
and in the arrangement of wprds, a better clain>
to indulgence, and ftanjd more in need of a dif-
cretionary power.
The language of Homer differs materially
from what was written and fpoken in Greece in
the days of Socrates. It differs in the mode of
i^ifledion, it difiers in the fyntax, it differs even
in the words; fo that one might read Homer
ivith eafe, who could not rca^^ Xenophon ; or
P 3 Xeno-
ai4 ON P O E T R y
Xenophon, without being able to read Homer.
Yet I cannot believe, that Homer, or the firft
Greek poet who wrote in his ftyle, would make
choice of a dialed quite different from what was
intelligible in his own time ; for poets hare in
ail ages written with a view to be read, and to
bie read with pleafure; which they could not be,
if their didion were hard to be underftood. It
is more reafonable to fuppofe, that the language
of HonF>er is according to fome ancient dialed,
which, though nol perhaps in familiar ufe among
the Greeks at the time he wrote, was however in.
telligible. From the Homeric to the Socratic
age, a period had elapfed of no lefs than four
hundred years ; during which the fiyle both of
difcourfe and of writing mud have undergone
^reat alterations. Yet the Iliad continued the
ftandard of heroic poetry, and was confidered aiL
the very perfedtion of poetical lahguagej not-
withllanding that fome words in it were become fo
antiquated, or fo ambiguous, that Ariftotle him-
felf fcems to have been Ibmewhat doubtful in re*
gard to their meaning*. And if Chaucer's merit
as a poet had been as great as Homer's; and
the Engliih tongue under Edward the Third, as
perfedt as the Greek was in the fecond century
after the Trojan war ; the ftyle of Chaucer would
probably have been our model for poetical dic-
tion at this day ; even as Pctrarcha, his contem-
porary, is ftill imitated by the beft poets of Italy.
' • Ariftot. Poet. cap. 25.
I have
A N D MUSIC 215
I have fomewhere read« that the rudenefs of
the ftyle of Ennius was imputed by the old cri-
tics to his having copied too clofcly the dialed
of common life. But this, I prcfume, is a mif-
take. For, if we compare the fragments of that
author with the comedies of PIautu$, who flou- ,
rifhed in the fame age, and whofe language was
certainly copied from that of common life, we
(hall be ftruck with an air of higher antiquity in the
former, tha^ in the latter. Ennius, no doubt,
like moft other fublime poets, aficdted the an-
tique in his expreflion: and many of his words
gnd phrafes, not adopted by any profe writer
mow extant, are to be found in Lticretius and
Virgil, and were by them tranfmitted to fuccccd-
ing poets. Thcfe form part of the Roman poe-
tical dialed j which appears, from the writings of
Virgil, where we have it in perfcftion, to have
)been very copiouj. The ftyje pf this charming
poet is indeed fo different from profe, and is al-
t(^e^her fo peculiar, that it is perhaps impoflible
to analyfe it on the common principles of Latin
graihmar. And yet no author can be more per-
ipicuous or morp exprefllve ; notwithftanding the
frequency of Grecifm in his fyntax, and his love
of old words, which he, in the judgment of
Quintilian, knew better than any other man how
to improve into decoration *.
The poetical dialed of modern Italy is fo dif-
ferent from the profaic, that I have known per-
* QsiatiU Inffit. viii« 3. feft. 3.
3^4 fons
2i6 ON POETRY
fons who read the hiftorians, and even fpoke
•with tolerable fluency the language of that coun-
try, but could not eafily conrtrue a page of Pe-
trarcha or Taffo. Yet it i$ not probable, that
Perrarcha, whofe works are a ftandard of the Ita-
lian poetical didtion •[•, made any material innovia-
tions in his native tongue. I rather believe, that
he wrote it nearly as it was fpoken in his time,
that is, in the fourteenth century -, omitting only
harfh combinations, arid taking that liberty which
Homer probably, and Virgil certainly, took be-
fore him, of reviving fuch old, but not obfolete
exprefllons, as feemed peculiarly fignificant and
melodious ; and polilhing his ftylc to that degree
of elegance which human fpcech, without be-
coming unnatural, may admit of, and which the
genius of poetry, as an art fubfcrvient tp pleafure,
may be thought to require.
The French poetry in general is diftinguiftied
from profe rather by the rhime and the mcafure,
than by any old or uncommon phrafeology. Ye;
the French, on certain fubjefts, imitate the ftyle
of their old poets, of Marot in particular ; and
may therefore be faid to have fomething of a poe-
tical dialeft, though far lefs extenfive than the
Italian, or even than the Englifh. And it may,
I think, be prefumed, that in future ages they
will have more of this dialed than they have at
prefect. This I would infer from the very un-
common merit of fome of their late poets, parti-
f Vicendc dcUa literatura del Penina, cap. 4.
cularly
A N D M U S I C. 217
cularly Boilcaii and La Fontaine, who, in their
refpeftive departments, will continue to be imi-
tated, when rjie prefcnt modes of French profe are
greatly changed : an event that, for all the pains
they take to preferve their language, muft inevi-
tably happen, and whereof there are not wanting
feme prefages already.
The Englifli poetical dialedt is not chara6le-
rifed by any peculiarities of inflexion, nor by
any great latitude in the ufe of foreign idioms.
More copious it is, however, than one would at
firft imagine. I know of no author who has
confidercd it in the way of detail *. — What fol-
lows is but a very Ihort fpccimen.
1. A
• Since writing the above, I have had the pleafure to read
the following judicioas remarks on this fubjedl. ** The lan-
** guage of the age is never the language of poetry, except
*' among the French, whofe vcrfe, where the fentiment or
" image does not fupport it, differs in nothing from profe*
** Oar poetry, on the contrary, has a language peculiar to it^
*^ felf ; to which almoU every one that has written has added
f* ibmetbing, by enriching it with foreign idioms and deriva-
** tives; nay, fomelimes words of their own compofition or
** invention* Sbakefpeare and Milton have been great creators
** this way ; and no one more licentious than Pope or Dryden,
'* who perpetually borrow expreilions from the former. Let
** me give you fome inftanccs from Dryden, whom every bo-
« dy reckons a great mailer of our poetical tongue. Full of
*' mufeful mopings — unlike the trim of love — a pleafant be^tragt
*« ^dLrottudelmy of love — Hood filent in his iwW— with knots
** and kuares deformed — his inful mood — in proud array — his
** boom was granted— and difarray an ihameful rout — ^ay
** ijijard but wik—furbijhed for the field — dodder"* d oaks-—
M diJhiritid'-'/mouldtring fiamc^'^ racble/s of laws — crones old
•• and
fti8 ONPOETRY
I. A few Greek and Latin idioms are com^
*inon in Englifh poetry, which are fcldom or nc-p
ver to be met with in profe. Qubnched of
HOPE. ShakefpearC' Shorn of his beams,
Milton.-^Created thing nor. valusd hb nor.
SHUN*D. Milton.— T/i thus we riot^ while who
sow it starve. Pope.— This day be breai^
AND PEACE MY LOT, Pope.— InTO WHAT PIT
THOU see'st From what height fallen.
Milton.— iy^ deceived The mother of mankind^
what time his pridr Had cast him out of
heaven. Milton. Sonjc of thefe, with other*
to be found in Milton, fecm to have been adoptr
cd for the fake of brevity, which in the poetical
tongue is indifpenfable. For the fame reafoD>
perhaps, the articles a and the are fometiipes
omitted by our poets, though Icfs frequently m
ferious than burlefque compofition ^. — —In Eng-
gliOi,
** and Ugly— the igUam at his fide — the grandam bag-^fvilla^
•* nixe his father's fame.— —But they arc infinite: and oar
** language not being a fettled thing (like the French}, has an
^* undoubted right to words of an hundred years old, provided
** antiquity have not rendered theni unintelligible,*'
Mr. Grafs Lttttrt^JiQ, 3, UiUr 4^
• In the Greek poetry, the omiflioii of the article is more
frequent than the ufe of it. The very learned and ingenious
author of A Treatife On the origin and progre/s of Language^
luppofes, that in the time of Homer, who eflabliflied their poe-
tical language, the article was little ufed by the Greeks ; and
this fappofuion appears highly probable, when we confider,
that in the Latin, which was derived from the Pelafgic tongue
(a \tTy anient dialed of Greek}, there is no article. Yet,
thoQgh
A N D M U S I C. ti9
glifli, the adjcftivc generally goes before the fub-
Itantivc, the nominative before the verb, and the
aftive verb before (what we call) the accufetive.
Exceptions, however, to this rule, are not un-
common even in profe. But in poetry they arc
more frequent. Tbeir homely Joy s^ and destiny
OBSCURE. Now FADES THE glimmering land-
scape on tbejigbt\ and all the air afolemn ftilU
ntfs holds. In genetal, that verfification may be
lefs difHcult, and the cadence more uniformly
pleafing; and fometimes, too, in order to give
energy to expreflion, or vivacity to an image,-*-
the Englifli poet is permitted to take much greater
liberties, than the profe-^writer, in arranging his
words, and modulating his lines and periods.
Examples may be fcen in every page of Para^
dife Loft.
%. Some of our poetical words take an addi<
tional fyllable, that they may fuit the verfe the
betters as, difpart^ diftain^ difport^ affngbt^ en*
cbain^ for part, ftain, fport, fright, chain.
Others feem to be nothing elfe than common
words made fhorter, for the convenience of the
verfifier. Such are auxiliary fuhlunar^ trumps vale^
parly climej fubmifs^ frolic^ plain^ drear^ dread^
belmj mornj meadj eve and even^ gan^ illumt and
illumine^ ope^ boar^ bide^ fwage^ fcapey for auxi-
liary, fublunary, trumpet, valley, depart, cli-
thpugh the article had been in ufe in Homer's age, I imagine,
that he, and every other Greek poet who wrote hexameters,
would have often- found it ntcejaiy to leave it out.
5 mate,
220 O N P O E T R Y .
mate, fubmiflive, frolicfome, complain, dreary^
dreadful, helmet, morning, meadow, evenings
began or begart to, illuminate, open, hoary^
abide, affuage, cfcape.— Of fome of thefe the
Ihort form is the more ancient. In Scotland,
ivetfy mom^ bide^ Jwage^ are flill in vulgar ufej
but morn^ except when contradiftinguiftied to
eveUj is fynonymous, not with morning (as in
the Englifti poetical ^dialed), but with morrow^
•^-The Latin poets, in a way fomcwhat fimilar,
and perhaps for a fimilar reafon, fhonencd funda-r
inentum^ tutamentum^ tnunimentumy &c. into fuH'
dameny tutamen^ munimen*.
3. Of tjie following words, which are now al-^
pnoft peculiar to poetry, the greater part are an-
cient, and were once no doubt in common ufe in
England, as many of them ftill are in Scotland,
4field^ amainj annoy (a noun), anonj aye (ever),
behefty blithe^ brand (fword), brid^l^ carols dame
(lady), featfyj fell (an adjeftive), gaude^ gore^ hojt
(army), lambkin^ late (of late), lay (poem), lea^
glade^gleam^ burl^ lore^ meedy orifons^ plod (to travel
laborioufly), ringlety rue (a verb), rutb^ ruthlefsj
Jojourn (a noun), fmite^ Jpeed (an adive verb),
fave (except), fpray (twig), Jieed, firain (fohg),
Jtrandy fmainytbrally tbrilU trail (a verb), trolly
* Quod poetae allfgati ad certam peduril necciStatcm,
non femper propriis uti poffint, fed dcpulfi a rcda via necefTa-
rio ad elcquendi quaedam diverticula confugiant; nee mutar^
qiiaedam mcdo verba, fed ixten^ere, corripere^ convei:tere, divi-
dcre, cogantur. ^intilian,
wasl,
• A N fi M U S I C. 221
^aiU wetter^ warble^ wayward^ woo^ tht while
(in the mean time), ym^ of yore. ^
4. Thefe that follow arc alfo poetical % but, fo
far as I know, were never in common ufe, Ap^
faU arrowy^ attune^ battailous^ breezy^ car (cha-
riot), clarion^ cates^ courfer^ darkling^ flicker^ flower-'
etj emblaze^ gairijh^ circlet^ impearly nigbthfy noife^ '
lefSy pinion (wing), floadowy^ flumberous^ ftreamy^
troublous^ wilder (a verb), Jhrilt (a verb)» Jhook
((hakcn), madding^ viewlefs — I fufpeft too, that
the following, derived from the Greek and La-
tin, are peculiar to poetry. Clangs clangor^ cba-
raly blandy boreal^ dire^ enfanguined^ ire, ireful^
lave (to bathe), nymph (lady, girl), orient^ pano-
ply J pbilomelj infuriate^ jocundy radiant^ rapty re^
dolent^ refulgent y - verdant ^ vernal^ zephyr ^ zone
(girdle), fylvan^ fuffufe.
5. In moft languages, the rapidity of pronun-
ciation abbreviates fome of the commoneft words,
or even joins two, or more of then), into one ;
and fome of thefe abbreviated forms find ad-
miflion into writing. The. Englifti language was
quite ^disfigured by them in the end of the laft
century; but Swift, by his fatire and example,
brought them into difrepute : and, though fome
of them be retained in converfation, as don't
Jhan'ty can'ij they are now avoided in folemn
ftyle ; and by elegant writers in general, except
where the colloquial dialedt is imitated, as in co-
medy, 'Tis and ^Twas^ fince the time of ShafteC-
• bury, feem to have been daily lofing credit, at
lead in profe 5 but ftill have a place in poetry ;
perhaps
222 ONPOETRY
perhaps becaufe they promote concifencfs. *Twai
m a lofty vafe's Jide. Gray. Tw true^ Uis cer-^
tatftt fnan though dead retains Part of bimfelf.
Pope. In vcrfe too, over may be ftiortcned into
c^er (which is the Scotch, and probably was the
old Engliih, pronunciation), ever into ^V, and
never into ne^er \ and from the and to^ when they
go before a word beginning with a vowel, the
final letter is fometimes cut off, OV bills^
^er daksy o^er crags^ o*er rocks they go. Pope.
Where^e*er Jhe tumsj the Graces homage pay. Jnd
all that beauty^ all thdt wealth e*er gave. Rieb
with the fpoils of time did ne^er unroll. Gray.
fTalarm th* eternal midnight of the grave. — Thefe
abbreviations are now peculiar to the poetical
tongue, but not neccflary to it. They fometimes
promote brevity, and render verfification lefs
difficult.
6. Thofe words which are commonly called
compound epithets^ as rofy-finget^d^ rofy-bofonf d^
many-twinkling^ many-foundings mofs-grown^ bright*
rftd^ flrawrbuilty fpirit-ftirring^ incenfe breathings
heaven-taught^ love-wbifpering^ lute-refounding^ arc
alfo to be confidered as part of our poetical dia-
led. It is true wc have compounded adjeftivcs
and participles in familiar ufe, as bighfeafoned^
well-natured^ illbredy well-meanings well-meant^
and innumerable others. But I fpeak of thofe
that are lefs common, that ieldom occur except
in poetry, and of Avhich in profc the ufe would
appear affeded. And that they {bmetimes pro-
mote brevity and vivacity of expreflion> cannot
be
AND M a S I C. ftij
be denied. But, as they give, when too fre-
qtient, a ftifT and finical air to a performance ;
as they are not always explicit in the fenfct
nor agreeable in the found i as they are apt to
produce a confufion, or too great a multiplicity
of images 5 as they tend to disfigure the lan-
guage, and furniih a pretext for endlefs innova*
tion I I would have them ufed fparingly ; and
thofe only ufed, which the practice of popular
authors has rendered familiar to the ear, and
which are in thcmfclves peculiarly emphatical
and harmonious. For I cannot think, with Da-
cier and Sanadon, that this well known verfe in
Horace's Art of Poetry,
Dixeris egregie, nbtum fi callida verbum
Reddidcritjundtura novum ■■
gives any warrant, even to a Latin poet, for the
formation of thefe compound words ^ which, if
I miftake not, were more fafiiionable in the dayl
of Ennius, thah of Horace and Virgil ♦•
7. In
* The critics are divided about the meaning of this paflage*
Horace is fpeaking of new <woris ; which he allows to be fome-
timcs neceflary ; bat which, he fays, ought to be J^aringlj
and tauthufy introduced ; In verbis etiam tenuis ^autu/qtu fe-
rendis ; and then fabjoins the words quoted ia the text, Dix-
eris egregie, &;c.
I. Some think, that this callida junSurM refers to the for-
madon of confound ^ithets^ as velivblus, faxifragus, folivagus,
Ice,; and that the import of the precept is this: ** Rather
^* Chan by bringing in a word ahogether new, even when a
•* new
tz4 O N P O E T R Y
7. In the transformation of nouris into verbs
and participles, our poetical dialed admits of
greater
** new word is neceflkry, you fhonid exprefs yourfelf by two
** known words artfully joined together into one, fb as to aC-
** fume a new appearance* and to admit a new though ana«
<* logical iignification*"' This might no doubt be done with
propriety in Tome cafes. But I cannot think, that Horace is
here fpcaking of compound words. — For, firft, this fort of
words were much more fuitable to the genius of the Greek
than of the Latin tongue ; as Qulntilian fomewhere infinaates,
and every body knows who is at all acquainted with thefe lan«
guages. — Secondly, we find, in fa£t, that thefe words are leis
frequent in Horace and Virgil, than in the older Poets ; whence
we may infer, that they became lefs faihionable as the Latin
tongue advanced nearer to perfe6lion« — Thirdly, Virgil \s
known to have introduced three or four new words from the
Greek, Ljchni, SftUa, Tiyai, &c. ; but it does not appear*
that either Virgil or Horace ever fabricated one of thefe com-
pound words; and it is not probable, that Horace would re-
commend a practice, which neither himfelf nor Virgil had ever
warranted by his example,— Fourthly, our author, in his
illtt&'ations upon the precept in queftion, affirms, that new
words will more eailly obtain currency if uken from the Greek
tongue; and Virgil, if we may judge of his opinions by his
praSice, appears to have been of the fame mind. 'And there
was good teafon for it. The Greek and Latin are kindred
languages; and as the former was much ftudied at Rome*
there was no riik of introducing any obfcurity into the Roman
language by the introduftion of a Greek word.— Laftly, it may
be doubted, whether junSura, though it often denotes the
compofition of words in a fentence or clau(e (Quintil. ix. 4),
and fometimes arrangement or compofition in general (Hor.
Ar« Poet, verie 242.) — is ever ufed to exprefs the union of fyl-
lables in a word, of of fimple words in a compound epithet.
2. Other interpreters fuppofe, that this calUda junSura re*
feri to the arrangement of words in the fentence, and that the
precept
A N 1) Music. 21$
greater latitude than profc. Hymn, pillow, cur*
tain, ftory, pillar, pifturc, peal, furge, cavern^
honey,
•
precept amoants to this i " When a new expreffion is necefTa*
•• ry, you will acquit yourfclf wcll> if by means of an art-
** ful arrangement you can to a known word give a new
*' iignificatioo«'' But one would think, that the obfervance
of this precept mud tend to the utter confufion of language*
To give new iignifications to words in prefent ufe, muft in-
creaie the ambiguity of language ; which in every tongue is
greater than ic ought to be, and which would (eem to be more
detrimental to eloquence and even to literature, than the in-^
trodudlion of many new words of definite meanings Thofe
who favour this interpretation give cojme fyl'varum for folia ^
as a pbraie to exemplify the precept. But the foliage of a tree
IS not a new idea, nor could there be any need of a new
word or new phrafe to exprefs it : though a poet, no doubt,
on account of his verfe, or on fome other account, mighc
chuA? to exprefs it by afigurt^ rather than by its proper name*
Coma fylvarum {oxfolia^ is neither lefs nor more than a meta-
phor, or, if you pleafe, a catachreiis ; but Horace is fpeaking^
not of figurative language, but of new words.— Both thefe
interpretations fuppofe, that the words of oar poet are to
be conflrued according to this order: Dixcris egregie, ii
callida jun£tura reddiderit notum nterhum novum,
3, The beft of all our poet's interpreters, the learned Dr.
Hurd, conftrues the paflage in the fame manner, and ex«
plains it thus : " laftead of framing new words, I recommend
" to you any kind of artful management, by which you may
" be able to give a new air and caft to old ones.'' And this
explication he illuftrates moft ingenioufly by a variety of ex-
amples, that throw great light on the fubjed of poetical didion.
See his notes on the Jrs PoitUa.
I (hould ill confult my own credit, if I were to oppofe my
judgment to that of this able critic and excellent author*
Yet I would beg leave to fay, that to me the poet (eems,
through the whole paffage, from verf. 46. to verf. 72, to be
Q^ fpeaking
%i6 ONPOETRY
honey, career, cinfture, bofpm, fphere, are tofm^
mon nouns; but^ f^ hymn, to pillow^ curtained,
fillared^ piSiUred^ pealing^ /urging^ caverrCd^ honied^
careering^ cinSured^ bofomed^ fphered^ would ap--
pear affefted in profe, though in verfc riiey are
warranted by the very bcft authority.
Some late poets, particularly the imitators of
Spenfer, have introduced a great variety of un«
common words, as certes, eftfoons, ne, whilom,
tranfmew, moil, fone, lofel, albe, hight, dight,.
pight, thews, couthful, affot, muchcl, wend ar-
rear, &c, Thefe were once poetical words, no
doubt ; but they are now obfolete, and to many
readers unintelligible. No man of the prefent age,
however converfant in this dialeft, would natural-
ly exprels himfclf in it on any interefting emer-
fpeaking of ^t formation of nemj nvords ; a praftice whereof
he allows the danger, but proves the neceflity. And I find I
cannot divefl myfelf of an old prejudice in favour of another
interpretation, which is nriore obvious and iimple, and which I
considered as the befl, long before I knew it was authoriied by
that judicious annotator Joannes Bond, and by Dryden in his
notes on the Eneid, as well as by the Abbe Batteux in his com-
mentary on Horace's lar/ of poetry. " New words (fays the
** poet) are to be caatiouily and fparingly introduced ; but*
•* when necefiary^ an author will do well to give them fuch a
'* pofition in the feBtence, as that the reader ihall be at no lofs
^ to difcover their meaning/' For I would conilrue the pafl
fa^e thus, Dixeris egregie, fi callida jandura reddiderit novum
verbum Mtum. But why, it may be faid, did not Horace, if
this was really his meaning, put no<vum in the firil line, and no-
turn in the fecond ? The anfwer is eafy. His verfe would not
admit that order: for the firilfyllable of novum is (hort, and the
firft fyllable of notu9d long.
gcncc-/
A N D M U S I C 227
gence ; or, fuppofing this natural to the antiqua-
rian, it would never appear fo to the common
bearer or reader. A rtiixture of thefe words, there-
fore, muft ruin the pathos of modern language ;
and as they are not familiar to our ear, and plain-
ly appear to be fought after and afFcdted, will ge-
nerally give a ftiffhefs to modern verfification.
Yet in fubjefts approaching to the ludicrous they
may have a good efFeft ; as in the Schoolmiftrefs of
Shenftone, Parners Fairy-tale, Thomfon's Caftle
of Indolence, and Pope's lines in the Dunciad up-
on Wornaius. But this cfFc6t will be moft pleaf-
ing to thofe wjbo have lealt occafion to recur to the
gloflary.
But why, it may be alked, Ihould thefe old
words be mor« pathetic and pleafing in Spenfer,
than in his imitators ? I anfwer, Becaufe in him
they feem, or we believe them to be» natural ; in
them we are fure that they are affefted. In hioi
there is an eafe and uniformity of expreflion, that
fhows he wrote a language not materially different
from what was written by all the ferious poets of
his time; whereas the mixed dialed of thefe imi-
tators is plainly artificial, and fuch as would make
any man ridiculous, if he were how to adopt it in
converfation. A long beard may give dignity to
the portrait, or ftatue of a hero, whom we know
to have been two hundred years in his grave : but
the chin of a modern European commander brift-
ling with that antique appendage, would appear
awkward , and ridiculous. — But did not Spenfer
himfelf make ufe of words that are known to have
Q^^ been
228 ON POETRY
been obfolctc, or merely provincial, in his time ?
Yes 5 and thofe words in Spenfer have the fame
bad effeft, that words now obfolete have in hrs
imitators ; they are to moft readers unintelligible,
an^ to thofe who underftand them appear ludi-
crous or affcfted. Some of his Eclogues, and
even fome paffages in the Fairy Queen, are liable
to this ccnfure.— -But what if Spenfer had fixed
the poetical language of England, as Homer did
that of Greece ? Would any of his old words in
that cafe have appeared awkward in a modern
poem ? Perhaps they would not : but let it be
obferved, that, in that cafe, they would have been
adopted by Milton, and Dryden, and Pope, and
by all our ferious poets fince the age of Elizabeth ;
and would therefore have been perfeftly intelligible
to every reader of Englifh verfe •, and, from our
having been fo long accuftomed to meet with them
in the moft elegant compofuions, would have ac-
quired a dignity equal, or perhaps fuperior, to
that which now belongs to the poetical language
of Pope and Milton.
I grant, it is not always eafy to fix the boundary
between poetical and obfolete expreflions. To
many readers, lore^ meed^ behefi^ llitbe^ gaude^
fprayy thrally may already appear antiquated ; and
to fome the ftyle of Spenfer, or even of Chaucer,
may be as intelligible as that of Dryden. This
however we may venture to affirm, that a word,
which the majority of readers cannot underftand
without a gloffary, may with reafon be confidered
as obfolete; and ought not to be ufed in modern
com-
A N D M U S I C 229
compofition, unlefs revived, and recommended to
the public ear, by feme very eminent writer.
There are but few words in Milton, as natblefsy tinCy
frore^ hojky^ &c. there are but one or two in Dry-
den, z.%falfify * \ and in Pope there are none at all,
which every reader of our poetry niay not be fup-
pofed to underlland : whereas in Shakefpeare there
are many, and in Spenfer many more, for which
one who knows Englifh very well may be obliged
to confult the diftionary. The praftice of Mil-
ton, Dryden, or Pope, may therefore, in almoft
all cafes, be admitted as good authority for the ufe
of a poetical word. And in them, all the words
above enumerated, as poetical, and in prefent ufe,
may adtually be found. And of fuch poets as may
chufe to obferve this rule, it will not be faid, ei-
ther that they rejed the judgment of Quintilian,
who recommends the neweft of the old words, and
the oldeft of the new, or that they are unattentive
to Pope's precept.
Be not the firft by whom the new are tried.
Nor yet the laft to lay the old afide f.
We muft not fuppofc, that thefe poetical words
never occur at all, except in poetry. Even from
converfation they are not excluded : and the an-
• Drydcn in one place (Eneid ix. verf. 1695O ufes Faljtfied
to denote Fierced through and through* He acknowledges, that
this ufe of the word is an innovation \ and has nothing to plead
for It hut his own authority, and that Fal/an in Italian fome-
times means (he fame thing.
+ £% on Criticifm, vcrf.-jss.
QL 3 cient
230 ON POETRY
cient cricks allow, that they may be admitted into'
profc, where they occaiionally confer dignity upon
a fublime fubjeft, or, for reafons clfewhere hinted
at *, heighten the ludicrous qualities of a mean
one. But it is in poetry only, where the frequent
ufe of them does not favour of affeftation.
Nor muft we fuppofe them effential to this art.
Many paffages there are of exquifite poetry^
wherein not a fingle phrafe occurs, that might not
be ufed in profe. In faft, the influence of thcfc
words in adorning Englilh verfe is not very exten-
five. Some influence however they have. Thejr
ferve to render the poetical ftylc, firft, more me-
lodious 5 and, fecondly, more folemn,
Firfl:, They render the poetical ftyle more me-
lodious, and more eaflly reducible into meafurc.
Words of unwieldy fize, or difficult pronuncia-
tion, are never ufed by correft poets, where they
can be avoided ; unlefs in their found they have
fomething imitative of the fenfe. Homer's poetr-
cal inflexions contribute wonderfully to the fweet-
nefs of his numbers : and if the reader is pkafed
to look back to the fpecimen I gave of the Englifli
poetical dialedb, he will find that the words are in
general well-founding, and fuch as may coalefqe
with other words, without producing harlh combi-
nations. Quintilian obfcrves, that poets, for the
fake of their verfe, are indulged in many liberties^
not granted to the orator, of lengthening, fliorten-
ing, and dividing their words f 5 and if the Greek
• EfTay on Laughter, chap. 2. fc^ 4*
f Indit* Oral* lib. iq« cap. i. § 3.
and
A N D M U S I C. f3i
and Roman poets claimed this indulgence from^
neceflity, and obtained it, the Englifh, thofe of
them efpccially who write in rhime, may claim it
^vith better reafon i as the words of our language
are lefs mufical, and far lefs fufceptrble of variety
in arrangement and iyntax.
Secondly, Such poetical words as are known to
be ancient have fomething venerable in their ap*
pearancc, and impart a folemnity t' all around
them. This remark is from Quintilian; who
adds, that they give to a compofition that cad and
colour of antiquity, which in painting is fo highly
valued, but which art can never effeftually imi-
tate *. Poetical words that are either not antient,
or not known to be fuch, have however a pleafing
efFedt from aflbciation. We are accuftonied to
meet with them in fublime and elegant writing ;
and hence they come to acquire fublimity and ele-
gance : — even as the words we hear on familiar
occafiona come to be accounted familiar ; and as
thofe that take their rife among pickpockets, gam-
blers, and gyplies, are thought too indelicate to
be Ufed by any perfon of tafte or good manners.
AVhen one hears the following lines, which abound
in poetical words.
The breezy call of incenfe-breathing morn.
The fwallow twittering from the ftraw built flied.
The cock's flirill clarion, or the ecchoing born.
No more Ihali reufc them from their lowly bed ;
♦ Lib. 8. cap. 3. § 3»
Q^ 4 one
232- ON POETRY
one is as fenfible of the dignity of the language ^
as one would be of the vilenefs or vulgarity of that
inan's fpccch, who fliould prove his acquaintance
with Bridewell, by interlarding his difcourfc witlx
fuch terms as mill-doll^ ^ueer cully ovnubbing cheat ^^ ;
or who, in imitation of fops and gamblers, fhould,
on the common occafions of life, talk of being heat
hollow, oxfaving his diftancef. — ^What gives dig-
nity to perfons, gives dignity to language. A man
of this character is one who has borne important
employments, been conncfted with honourable af-
fociates, and never degraded himfelf by levity, or
immorality of conduft. Dignified phrafes arc
thofe which have been ufed to cxprefs elevated fen-
timents, have always made their appearance in
elegant compofition, and have never been profaned
by giving pernianency or utterance to the paflions
of the vile, the giddy, or the worthlefs. And as
by an adlive old age, the dignity of fuch men is
confirmed and heightened ; fo the dignity of fuch
words, if they be not fufFered to fall into difufe,
generally improves by length of time.
♦ See the Scoundrers Diaionary.
f Language of Newmarket.
SECT.
AND M U S I C. 233
SECT. III.
Natural Language is improved in poetry^ by means of
^Tropes and Figures.
SO much for the nature and ufe of thofe words
that are poetical^ and yet not figurative. But
f rom Figurative ExpreJ/ion there ^riks a more co-
pious and important fource of Poetic Eloquence.
Some forts of poetry are diftinguilhed by the beau-
ty, boldnefs, and frequency of the Figures, as
well as by the meafure, or by any of the contri-
vances above mentioned. And in profe we often
meet wth fuch figures and words, as we expedt
only in poetry •, in which cafe the language is call-
ed Poetical: and in verfe we fometimes find a dic-
tion fo tame, and fo void of ornament, that we
brand it with the appellation of Profaic,
As my defign in this difcourfc is, not to deliver
a fyftem of rhetoric, but to explain the peculiar
cflTeds of poetry upon the mind, by tracing out
the characters that diftinguifli this from other lite-
rary arts ; it would be improper to enter here,
with any degree of minutenefs, into the philofophy
of Tropes and Figures: thefe being ornamental,
BOt to poetry only, but to human fpeech in gene-
ral. All that the prefent occafion requires will be
performed, when it is ihown, in what refpefts
tropical and figurative language is more neceffary,
to poetry than to any other fort of compofition. -
If
23+ O N P O E T R Y
If it appear, that, by means of Figures, Lan-
guage may be made more pleajing^ and more na^
iuralj than it would be without them ; it will fol-
low, that to Poetic Language, whofe end is t»
pleafe by imitating nature. Figures muft be not
only ornamental, but neceffary. I ftiall therefore,
firft, make a few remarks on the importance and
utility of figurative language; fecondly, (how^
that Figures arc more neceflary to poetry in gene-
ral, than to any other mode of writing-, and^
thirdly, affign a reafon why they are more necefla-
ry in fome kinds of poetry than in others.
L I purpofe to make a few remarks on the im-
portance and utility of Figurative Expreflion, in
making language more pleafmg and more natural.
I. The firft remark is, that Tropes and Figures
are often neceflary to fupply the unavoidable de-
fers of language. If proper words are wanting,
or not recollefted, or if we do not chufe to be al-
ways repeating them, we muft have recourfe to
tropes and figures. — When philofophers began to
explain the operations of the mind, they found,
that moft of the words in common ufe, being
framed to anfwer the more obvious exigencies of
life, were in their proper fignification applicable
to matter only and its qualities. What was to be
done in this cafe ? Would they think of making a
new language to exprefs the qualities of mind ?
No : that would have been difiicult, or imprafti-
cable J and granting it both prafticable and eafy,
they muft have forefeen, that nobody would read
or liften to what was thus fpoken or written in a
new.
AND MUSIC. 235
new, and, confequently, in an unknown, tongue.
They therefore took the language as they found
it ; and, where-ever they thought there was a fimi-
larity or analogy between the qualities of mind
apd the qualities of matter, fcruplcd not to ufe
the names of the material qualities tropically, by
applying them to the mental qualities. Hence
came the phrafes, folidity of judgment, warmth
of imagination, ^/^rg-^wrv/of underftanding, and
many others; which, though figurative, exprcfs
the meaning juft as well as proper words would
have done; In faft, numerous as the words in
every language are, they muft aWays fall fhort of
the unbounded variety of human thoughts and
perceptions. Taftes and fmells are almoft as nu-
merous as the fpecies of bodies. Sounds admit of
perceptible varieties that furpafs all computation,
and the feven primary colours may be diverfified
without end. If each variety of external percep-
tion were to have a name, language would be in-
furmountably difficult ; nay, if men were to ap-
propriate a clafs of names to each particular fenfe,
they would multiply words exceedingly, without
adding any thing to the clearnefs of fpeech. Thofc
words, therefore, that in their proper fignific«tion
denote the objefts of one fenfe, they often apply-
tropically to the objefts of another ; and fay, fweet
tafte, fweet fmell, fweet found ; Iharp point, (harp
tafte, Iharp found ; harmony of founds, harmony
of colours, harfhony of parts 5 foft filk, foft co-^
lour, foft found, foft temper ; and fo in a thou;
fand inftances 5 and yet thefe words-, in their tro-
pical
5
236 ON POETRY
pical fignification, are not lefs mtelligible than in
their proper one ; for (harp tafte and fharp found,
are as expreflive as fharp fword ; and harmony of
tones is not better underftood by the mufician,
than harmony of parts by the architeft, and har-
mony of colours by the painter.
Savages, illiterate perfons, and children, have
comparatively but few words in proportion to the
things they may have occafion to fpcak pf -, and
muft therefore recur to tropes and figures more
frequently, than perfons of copious elocution, A
feaman, or mechanic, even when he talks of that
which does not belong to his art, borrows his lan-
guage from that which does ; and this makes his
didlion figurative to a degree that is fometimes en-
tertaining enough. " Death'* (fays a feaman in
one of Smollet's novels) " has not yet hoarded
*' my comrade 5 but they have been yard arm and
*' yard arm thefe three glajfes. His Jlarhoard cyt is
" open, but fafty^^?;^/^ in his head ; andthtJbauI-
•* yards of his under jaw have given way." Thefe
phrafes are exaggerated ; but we allow them to be
natural, becaufe we know that illiterate people are
apt to make ufe of tropes and figures taken from
their own trade, even when they fpeak of things
that are very remote and incongruous. In thofe
poems, therefore, that imitate the converfation of
illiterate perfons, as in comedy, farce, and pafto-
ral, fuch figures judicioufly applied may render
the imitation more pleafing, becaufe more exadt
and natural.
Word*
A N D M U S I C. i^
Words that are untuneablc and harfh the poet
is often obliged to avoid, when perhaps he has no
bther way to exprcfs their meaning than by tropes
and figures ; and fometimes the meafure of his
verfe may oblige him to rejeft a proper word that
is not harfh, merely on account of its being too
long, or too fliort, or in any other way unfuitable
to the rhythm, or to the rhime. And hence ano-
ther ufe of figurative language, that it contributes
to poetical harmony. Thus, to prefs the plain is
frequently ufed to lignify to bejlain in battle -^ li-
quid plain is put for ocean^ blue ferene for Jky^ and
fyhan reign for country life.
2. Tropes and figures are favourable to delica-
cy. When the proper name of a thing is in any
refpeft unpleafant, a well-chofen trope will convey
the ideain fuch a way as to give no offence. This
is agreeable,* and even .necelTary, in polite conver-
fation, and cannot be difpenfcd with in elegant
writing of any kind. Many words, from their
being often applied to vulgar ufe, acquire a mean-
nefs that difqualifies them for a place in ferious
poetry ; while perhaps, under the influence of a
different fyflem of manners, the correfponding
words in another language may be elegant, or at
leaft not vulgar. When one reads Homer in the
Greek, one takes no offence at his calling Eumeus
by a name which, literally rendered, fignifies
Swine-herd -, firfl, becaufe tlje Greek word is well-
founding in itfeif; fecondly, becaufe we have
never heard it pronounced in converfation, nor
copfequently debafed by vulgar ufe j and, thirdly,
becaufe
ajS ON POETRY
becaufe wc know, that the office denoted by ic
was, in the age of Eumeus, both important and
honourable. But Pope would have been blamed^
if a name fo indelicate as fwim-berd had in the
more folemn parts of his tranflacion been applied
to fo eminent a perfonage ; and therefore he judi-
cioufly makes ufe of the trope Jyne^doche^ and calls
him Swain * ; a word both elegant and poetical,
and not likely to lead the reader into any miftake
about the perfon fpoken of, as his employment
had been defcribed in a preceding paffage. The
fame Eumeus is faid, in the fimple, but melodious^
language of the original, to have been making
his own ihoes when Ulyfles came to his door ; a
work which in thofe days the greatcfl heroes
would often find neceflfary. This too the tranfla-
tor foftens by a tropical expreflion :
Here fat Eumeus, and his cares applied
To form ftrong bujkins bf well-feafon'd hide,
A hundred other examples might be quoted from
this tranflation ; but thefe will explain my mean-
ing.
There are other occafions, on which the delica-
cy of figurative language is ftill more needful : as
in Virgil's account of the efJeds of animal love,
and of the plague among the beal^s^ in the third
Georgic ; wljere Drydcn's ftyle, by being lefs fi-
gurative than the or^nal, is in one place exceed-
ingly filthy, and in another (hockingly obfcene.
• Pope^i Homer's Odyflcy, book 14. vcrf. 41.
Hobbes
A N D M U S r C. 2^9
Hobbes could conftruc a Greek author ; but his
Ikill in words mud have been all derived from the
dictionary ; for he feems not to have kaown« that
any one articulate found could be more agreeable^
or any one phrafe more dignified, than any other.
In his Iliad and Odyffey, even when he hits the
author's fcnfc (which is not always the cafe),
he proves, by his choice of words, that of harmo-
ny, elegance, or energy of ftyle, he had no man-
ner of conception. And hence that work, though
called a Tranflation of Homer, does not even de-
ferve the name oi poem \ becaufe it is in every re-
fpcft unpleqfing^ being nothing more than a fidli-
tious narrative delivered in mean profe, with the
additional meannefs of harfli rhyme and untune-
able meafurc.— Trapp underftood Virgil well
enough as a grammarian, and had a tafte for his
beauties ; yet his Tranflation bears no refemblance
to Virgil 5 which is owing to the fame caufe, an
imprudent choice of words and figures, and a to-
tal want of harmony.
I grant, that the delicacy we here contend for
may, both in converfation and in writing, be car-
ried too far. To call killing an innocent man in a
duel an affair of honour, and a violation of the
rights of wedlock an affair of gallantry, is a proflii-
tution of figurative language. Nor do I think it
any credit to us, that we are faid to have upwards
of forty figurative phrafes^to denote exceffive
drinking. Language of this fort generally im*
plies, that the public abhorrence of fuch crimes is
riot lb ftrong as it ought to be : and I am not cer-
tain.
^40 ONPOETRY
tain, whether even our morals might not be im-
proved, if we were to call thefe and fuch like
crimes by their proper names, murder, adultery,
drunkennefs, gluttony ; names, that not only cx-
prefs our meaning, but alfo betoken our difappro-
bation. — As t6 writing, it cannot be denied, that
even Pope himfelf, in the excellent verfionjuft now
quoted, has fometimes, for the fake of his num-
bers, or for fear of giving offence by too clofe an
imitation of Homer's fimplicity, employed tropes
and figures too quaint or too folemn for the occa-
fion. And the finical ftyle is in part charafterifed
by the writer's diflike to literal expreflions, and af-
feftcdly fubftituting in their ftead unneceflary
tropes and figures. With thefe authors, a man*s
only child muft always be his only hopCy a country-
maid becomes a rural beauty ^ or perhaps a nymph of
the groves \ if flattery fing at all> it muft be zfyren
fong ; the (hcpherd*s flute dwindles into an oaten
reed^ and his crook is exalted into a fcepter ; the
Jilver lilies rife from thtir golden iedsj and languijb
* to the complaining gale. A young woman, though
a good Chriftian, cannot make herfelf agreeable
without facrificing to the Graces ; nor hope to do
any execution among the gentle fwains^ till a whole
legend of Cupids j armed With fames and darts^ and
other weapons, begin to difcharge from her eyes
their formidable artillery. For the fake of varie-
ty, or of the verfe, fome of thefe figures may now
and then find a place in a poem; but in profe,
unlefs very fparingly ufcd, they favour of aflfcc-
tation.
3. Tropes
AND MUSIC 241
. 3, Tropes ^nd Figures promote brevity ; and
brevity, united with pcrfpicuity, is always agree-
able. An example or two will be given in the
next paragraph. Sentiments thus delivered, and
imagery thus painted, are readily apprehended by
the mind, make a ftrong imprelfion upon the fan-
£7, and remain long in the memory : whereas too
many words, even when the meaning is good,
bring difguft and wearioefs. They argue a debili*
ty of mind which hinders the author from feeing
his thoughts in one diftinct point of view ; and
chey alfo encourage a fufpicion, that there is fomc«
ihing faulty or defective in the matter. In the
poetic ftyle, therefore, which is addreflcd to the
fancy and paflions, and intended to make a vivid,
^ pleating, and a permanent impreflion, brevity,
and confequently tropes and figures, are indifpen-
iable. And a language will always be the better
fuited to poetical purpofes, the more it admits of
this brevity ;— a charader which is more confpi^
cuous in the Greek and Latin than in any modern
tongue, and lefs in the French than in the Italian
or EngliOi.
4. Tropes and Figures contribute to ftrength or
energy of language, not only by their concifenefs,
but alfo by conveying to the mind ideas that are
cafily comprehended, and make a ftrong impref*
lion. We are powerfully afFcded with what we
fee, or feel, or hear. When a fehtiment comes
enforced or illuftrated by figures taken from ob-
jefts of fight, or touch, or hearing, one thinks, as
it were, that one fees, or feels, or hears, the thing
R fpoken
24t O N PO E T R y
fpoken of; and thus, what in kfelf would perhaps
be obfcure, or is merely intelleftual, may be made
to feize our attention and interefl our paflions al^
moft as effedlually as if it were an objeft of out-
ward fcnfe. When Virgil calls the Scipios tbunder-'
beUs of war^ he very ftrongly cxprcffes in one
word, and by one image, the rapidity of their
viclories, the noife they made in the world, and
the ruin that attended their iirefiftible career.
V7hen Homer calls Ajax the bulwark of the Greeks^
he paints with equal brevity his vaft iize and
ftrength, the difficulty lof prevailing againft him,
and the confidence wherewith his countrymen re-
pofcd on his Valour. When Solomon fays of the
ftrange woman, or harlot, that '^ herfeet goJ^w/i
*' to death,"" he lets us know, not only that her
path ends in deftrwSlion, but alfo, that they who
accompany her will find it eafy to go forwards to
rwin, and difficult to return to then- duty. Satan^s
enormous magnitude, and refulgent appearance,
his perpendicular afcent through a region of dark-
nefs, and the inconceivable rapidity of his motion,
are all painted out to €ur fancy by Milton, in ont
very Ihorc fimilitude.
Sprung upward, like — a pyramid of fire * :
To take in the full meaning of which figure^- we
muft imagine ourfelves in chaos, and a vaft lumi-
nous body rifing upward, nearthe place where we
^re, io fwifcly as to appear a continued track of
* Pr.r. Loft* book 2. verA 1013.
light.
,
A N D M O S 1 C. £43
lighH ^nd leflening to the view accordiog to the
increafeof diftance, till it end in a point, andtheil
difappear^ and all this muft be fuppofed to ftrike
our eye at one inftant. Equal to this in proprie-
tjr, though not in magnificence, is that allegory
of Qray,
The paths of glory lead but to the grave t
Which prefents to the imagination a wide plain,
where feveral roads appear, crouded with glitter^
ing multitudes, and i(&iingfrom difierent quarters
but drawing nearer and nearer as they advance,
till they terminate in the dark and Harrow houfe,
where all their glories enter in fuccefTion, and dif-
appeal^ for ever. When ic is faid infcripture, of"
a good mat) who died, that he fell ajleep^ what a
number of thoughts are at once conveyed to our
imagination, by this beautiful and expreffive fi-
gure ! As a labourer, at the clofe of day, goes
to fleep, with the fattsfadion of having performed
his w6rk, and with the agreeable hope of awaking
in the morning of a new day, refrclhed and chear-
ful ; foa good man, at the end of life, refigns him-
felf calm and contented to the will of his Maker,
with the fwcet, rcfleftion of having endeavoured to
do his duty, and with the tranfporting hope of
foon awaking in the regions of light, to life and
happinefs eternal. The figure alfo.fuggefts, that
to a good man the tranfition from life to death is
even in the fenfation no more painful, than when
our faculties melt away into the pleafing infenfibi**
lity of fleep. Satan flying among the ftars is fai4
K %^ by
£44 O N P O E T R y
by Milton to ** Sail between worlds and worlds -J^
which has an elegance of force far fuperior to the
proper word Fly. For by this allufion to a ftiip^
we are made to forrti a lively idea of his great iizc,
and to conceivfc of hifS motion, that it was equable
and majeftic. Virgil ufcs a happy figure to ex*
prefs the fize of the great wooden horfc, by means
of which the Greeks were conveyed into Troy r
«^ Equum divlnaPalladis arte ^edificantJ* Mikoa
is ft ill balder when he* fays.
Who would not fing for Lycidas ? he kntvr
Himfelf to fing, and iurld the hfty rhime *•
The phrafe^ however, though bold is emphaticaH
and gives a noble idea of the durability of poetry>
as well as of the art and attention requifite ta
form a good poem.— There are hundreds of tro-
pical expreilions in common ufe, incomparably
more energetic than any proper words of equal
brevity that could be put in their place. A cheek
burning with blufhcs, is a trope which at once de-
fcribes the colour as it appears to the beholder^
and the glowing heat as it is felt by the perfon
blu(bing. Chilled with defpondence, fetrefied with
aftonilhment, thunderjtruck with difagrccable and
• In the Latin phrafe Condere carmtu^ which Milton no doubt
had in view, the verb is of more general fignification, thati the
iBnglifli verb to hutld\ and therefore the figure is bolder in Eng-
Jifli than Latin. It may even bedoubted, whether Cenden car-
men be at all figurative : for Condere is refolved by R* Stephanas
ii.to Simul dare, Condere carmen, condere poenta, condere hifto^
tiamy occur in Cicero and Pliny ; but Milton's phrafe la xnach
tQoda ing lor Engliih profe.
uncx-
AND MUSIC. 245
tuiexpcAed intelligence, meUed with love or pity,
dijfohed in luxury, hardened in wickedneis, Jof tend-
ing into rcmorfe, inflamed with defire, tojfed with
uncertainty, &c.— every one is fenfible of tbt
force of thefe and the like phrafes, and that they
muft contribute to the energy of language.
5* Tropes and Figures promote ftrength of ex-
preflion, and are in poetry peculiarly requiGte,.
becaufe they are often more natural^ and more
imitative^ than proper words. In fad, this is fo
much the cafe, that it would be impofTible to imi-
tate the language of' paffion without them. It is
true, that when the mind is agitated, one does not.
run out into allegories, or long-winded fimilitudes,
or any of the figures that require much attention
and many words, or that tend to withdraw the
fancy from the objeft of the palTion. Yet the
ftyle of. many pafflons muft be figurative, notwith-
ftanding : becaufe they roufe the fancy, and dired
it to objects congenial to their own nature, which
diverfify the words of the fpeaker with a muUi.
tude of allofions. The fancy of a very angry
man, for example, prefents to his view a train of
difagr^able ideas connected with the paflion of
anger, .and tending to encourage it^ and if he
fpeak without reftraint during the paroxyfm of his
rage, thofe ideas will force themfclves upon him, .
and compel him to give them utterance, ** In-
« fcrnal monfter! (he will fay) — my 'blood boils
** at him; he has ufed me like a dog; never was
" man fo injured ^s I have been by this barbarian,
f^ He has no more fenfe of propriety than a ftone.
. R 3 « His
2^6 ONPOETRY
** His countenance is diabolical, and his foul as
" ugly as his countenance. His heart is cold and
*^ hard, and his refolutians dark and bloody," &c.
This fpecch is wholly figurative. It is made up
of metaphors znA hyperboles^ which, with the pro-
fopopeia an^i apojlrophe^ are the moft paflionate of
all the figpres. Lear, driven out of doors by his
unnatural daughters, in the cnidft of darknefs,
thunder, tempeft, naturally breaks forth (for his
indignation is raifed to the very higheft pitch) into
the following violent exclamation againft thci
crimes of mankind, in which almoft every word
1$ figurative.
Treinblc thou inFr^tcb*
That haft within thee undivulged crimes
Unwhipt of juftice. Hide thee, thou bloody handle
Thou perjured, and thou fimilar of virtue.
That art incefluous« « CaitifF, to pieces {hake.
That under covert, and convenient ieeming,
Haft pra£li{ed on man's life* Clofe pent up guilts,
T^hiQ your concealing continents, and cry
^hefe dieadful fummoners grace.
The vehemence of maternal love, and forrow, from
the apprehenfion of Ibfing hei** child, make the
Lady Conftance utter words that are ftrongly
figurative, though quite fuitable to the condition
and charafter of the fpeakcn The pafTage is too
Jong for a quotation, but concludes thus :
O Lord ! my boy, my Arthur, my fair fon,
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world.
My widow-comfort, and my forrow's cure ♦.
• King John.
Similar
AND MUSI C. 247
Similar to this^ and equally exprelfive of conjugal
love, is that beautiful hyperbole in Homer-, where
Andromache, to diflfuade her hufband from going
out to the battle, tells him, that (he had now no
mother, father, or brethren, ali her kindred being
dead, and her native cogotry defolate; and then
tenderly adds.
But while my Hedor yet farvives, I fee
My father, mother, brethren, all in thee**
As the pafllons that agitate the foul, and roule
the fancy, are apt to vent themfetves in tropes
;ind figures, fo thofe that deprefs the mind adopt
for the mod part a plain diAion without any orna^*
ment. For to adejeded mind, where the imagi->
nation is generally inaftive, it is not probable^
that any great variety of ideas will prefent them-
fclves ; and when tbtffe arc few and familiar, the
words that exprefs them mull be fimple. As no
author equals Shakefpeare in boldnefs and variety
of figures, when he copies the ftyle of thofe vioT
lent paflions that Simulate the fancy ; fo, when he
would exhibit the human mind in a dejected ftate^
no uninfpired writer excels him in fimplicity. The
fame Lear, whofe refentment had impaired his iin-
derftanding, while it broke out in the moft boif-
terous language, when, after fome medical appli-
cations, he recovers his rcafon, his rage being now
eyhaufted, his pride humbled, and his fpirits to«
f Had, took 6.
R 4 tally
f 48 O N P O E T R T
Ully deprefled, adopts a ftyle than which nothing
can be imagined more fimple^ or more affe£tii)g :
Pray do not mock mes
I am a very fooli/h, fond old man,
Foarfcore and upward, and, to deal plainly with you,
I fear I am not in my perfefi.mind*
Methinks I jfhould know you, and know this mftn.
Yet I am doubtful ; for I am mainly ignorant
What place this is, and all the (kill I have
Remembers not thefe garments ; nor I know n6t
Where I did lodge laft night*.
Dcfdemona, ever gentk, artlcfs, and fincere,
Ihocked at the unkindnefs of her hufband, and
overcome with melancholy, fpeaks a language fo
beautifully fimple, and fo perfeftly natural, that
one knows noi what t6 fay in commendation of it :
My mother had a maid callM Barbara ;
She was in love, and he (he loved proved niad.
And did forfake her. She had a fong of willow ;
An old thing it was, but it exprefs'd her fortune.
And (he died finging it. That fong to-night
Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do, ^
But to go hang my head all at one fide»
And fing it like poor Barbara f.
Sometimes
* King Lear, aA 4. (cene 7.
f Othello, a6t 4. fcene 3. This charming pafTage, tranf^
lated into tiie finical flyk^ which, whatever be the fobjed or
fpeiker, maft always be defcriptive, enigmatical, and full of
figures, wduld perhaps run thus :
Even now, fad Memory to iny thought recals
The nymph Dione, who, with pious care.
My much- loved mother, 'in my vernal years.
Attended :
8
A N t) M U S I C. 249
Sometimes die imagination, even when exerted
to the utmoft, takes in but few ideas. This hap*
pens when the attention is totally cngroffcd by
Ibine very great objc£l 5 admiration being one of
thofe emotions that rather fufpend the exercife of
the faculties, than pulh them into aftion. And
here too the fimpleli language is the mod natural %
, Attended : blooming was the maiden's fottth
And on her brow Difcretion iat, and on
Her rofy cheek a thoufand Graces play'd*
O lucklefs was the day, when Cupid's dart.
Shot from a gentle fwain's alluring eye»
Firfl thrili'd with picafing pangs her throbbing brcaft !
That gentle Twain, ah, gentle now no, mere,
(Horrid to tell !) by fuddea pbrenfy driven*
Ran howling to the wild : blood tinftored fire
Glared from his haggard eyeballs, and on high
The hand of Horror raifed his ragged hair.
And cold fweat bathed his agoniskig frame*
What didft thoa then, Dione f ilUdar'd maid!
What couldfl thou do ! From morn to dewy eve.
From Eve till rofy-finger'd Morn app^ar'd.
In a fad (bng, a long of ancient days,
Warbling her wild woe to the pitying windtt
She fat ; the weeping willow was her theme^
And well the theme accorded with her woe ;
Till fate fupprefb'd at length th' unfiniOi'd lay«
Thus on Meander's flowery mantled fide
The dying cygnet fings, and finging dies.
I hope my young readers are all wifer; but I believe there was
a tiipe, when I (honld have been tempted to prefer this flaiby
tinfel to Shakefpeare*s fine gold. I do not fay, that in th^rn*
felves theie lines are all bad, though feveral of them are; and
in (bme forts of compofition the greater part might perhaps be
^ pardonable ; but I iay, that, confidered in relation to the cha«
radler andcircumftances of Defdemona, they are all tmnatural,
and therefore not poetical*
ts
250 ONPOETRY
as when Milton fays of the Dcitjr, that he fits
^* high-thron'd above all height.-' And as this
Cmplicity is more fuitablc to that one great exer*
tlon .which occupies the fpeaker's mind» than a
XDQtc elaborate imagery or language wojuld have
bpcn 5 fo has it al^ a nwre powerful efFeft in fix-
ing and elevating the imagination of the hearer :
for, to introduce other thoughts for the fake of
llluftrating what cannot be illuilrated, could an-
fwer no other purpofe, than to draw off the atten-
tion from thp principal idea. In thefe and the
Jike cafes, the fancy left to Itfelf will have more
iatisfadion in purfuing at leifure its own fpecula*
tions, than in attending to thofe of others; as
they who fee for the firft time fome admirable ob-
jcd, would chufe rather to feaft upon it in filence,
than to have their thoughts interrupted by a long
defcription from another perfon, informing tnem
of nothing but what they fee before them, "^re al^
ready acquainted with, or may eafily conceive.
On thefe principles^ I cannpt but think, that Mil-
ton's elaborate account of the creation of light *,
excellent as it is in maqy particulars, is yet far
Icfs flriking to the mind,, than that famous paffage
of Mofes, fo juftly admired by Longinus for its
fublimity, " And God faid. Let there be light -,
, * Let there be I»ght, God fa\d ; and forthwith li^^ht
Ethereal, firft ofthipgSg quintcfTence pure,
Sprung from the deep, and from her native Caft
To journey through the aery gloom heg^nn, •
Sphered in a radiant cloud 5 for yet the faiv
Was not; (he in a cloudy tabernacle
^c)journ*d thf while. . Faradn Lofi, vii. 244* -
.AND M O S 1 O; 451
«f and there was light.*' When I contemplate the
idea fuggefted by thefe few Hmplc words, I fancy
xnyfelf encompafled with the darknefs of chaos;-
that I hear the Almighty Word, and at the fame
inftant fee light difFufed over all the immenfity of
nature. Here an objeft, the greateft furely that
can be imagined, the whole illuminated univerfe
ft arts at once into view. And the fancy feems to
be enlivened by the Ibortnefs and (implicity of the
phrafe, which hint the inllantaneoufnefs of the ef-
fe£b, and the facility wherewith the Firft Caufe
operates in producing a work fo unutterably beau*
jtiful, and fo aftoniftiingly great.
But to return from this digreffion, which was •
only intended to (how, that though fome thoughts^
and emotions require a figurative, others as natu-
rally adopt a fimple ftylc; — I remarked, that the-
hyperhle^ frofopopaay and apofiropbe^ are among
the copft paflionate figures. This deferves illuf-
tration»
I. A very angry man thinks the injury he has
juH: received greater than it really is ; and, if he
proceed jnimediately to retaliate by word or deed,
is apt to exceed the due bounds, and to become
injurious in his turn. The fond parent looks up-
on his child as a prodigy of genius and beauty ;
anc} the romant'rc lover will not be perfuaded that
h|s miftrcfs has nothing fupernatural either in her
mind or perfon. Fear, in like manner, not only ^
magnifies its objcft when real, but even forms an
obje6t out of nothing, and miftakes the fidions of
fancy for the intimations of fenfe. No wonder
then.
z^z
€>N POETRY
then, that they who fpeak according to the ini«»
pulfe of pafllon fhould fpeak iyperioUcaUy : that
the angry man fliould exaggerate the injury he ha3
received, and the vengeance he is going to inBifi: i
that the fi>rrowful fhould magnify what th^y havp
loft, and the joyful what they have obtained ; that
the lover (hould fpeak extravagantly of the beau-
ty of his miftpefso the coward of the dangers he
has encountered, and the credulous clown pf the
miracles performed by the juggler. In faft>
tHeie people would not do juftice to what they
feel, if they did not fay more than the truth. The
valiant man, on the other hand, as naturally
adopts the diminiihing hyperbole, when hefpeaks
of danger; acid the man of fenfe, when he is-
obliged to mention his own virtue or ability ; be-
cfDfe it appears to him, or he is willing to confider
It, as lefs than the truth, or at beft as inconfider*-
able. Contempt ufes the fame £gure; and there-
fore Petruchio, afFcfting that paffion, afFcdb alfo
the language of it :
Tbou lieft, thoa thread, thou thimble.
Thou yard, three quarters, half yard, quarter, nail,
Thoa flea, thou oit, thou winter-cricket, thoo!
Braved in mine own houfe with a (kein of thread!
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant ! * ^
For fome paflions confider their objefts as impor-
tant, and others as unimportant. Of the former
fort are anger> love, fear, admiration, joy, for-
row, pride i of the latter are contempt and cdu-
• Timing of the Shrew, aS 4. fcenc i.
rage.
A N D M U S I a tsS
rage. Thofe may be &id to fubdw the «nnd fl»
tbeobjed', and thefc^ to fubc}ue the objeft ttf tbe
fnind. And the former^ when vioknt, alwaya
magnify their objefts ; wheacQ the hyperbole caU*
ed Amplification, or j^efis: and the latter it
coni^antly diminiih theirs; and give rife to the
hyperbole called Mdqfisy or Diminutiofl. — Even
when the mind cannot be faid to be under the in*-
fiuence of any violent paflion, we naturally employ
the fame figure, when we would imprefs anotb^
very ftrongly with any idea. He is a walking
ihadow ; he is worn to flcin and bone ; he has one
foot in the grave, and the other following ;— thefi^
and the like phrafes are proved to be natural i^
their frequency. — By introducing great ideas, the
hyperbole is further ufeful in poetry, as a fource of
the fubkmes but, when employed lajudicioufly,
is very apt to become ridiculous. Cowley makes
Goliah as big as the hill down which he was
marching * ; and tells us, that when he came into
the valley, he Teemed to fill it, and to overtop the
neighbouring mountains (which, by the by, feems
rather to leflen the mountains and valiies, than
to magnify the giant) i nay, he adds, that the
iun ftarted back when he faw the fplendor of his
arms. This poet feems to have thought, that the
figure in queftion could never be fufficiently enor-
mous; but Quintiltan would have taught him,
" Quamvis omnis hyperbole ultra fidcm, non ta-
^* men effc debet ultra modum." The rcafon i$,
* Pavideis, boi^lc 3.
^hat
254 O N P O E T R Y
chat this figure, when excefAve, betokens^ rather
aUotute infatuatioiiy thiuf intenfe eitiotion;' iTnd
refembles the efforts cf a rahting tragedian, or the
ravings of ah enthufiaflic declaimer, who, by put*
dng on the geftures and looks of a lunatic, fatisfy
the difcerning part of their audience, that, inftead
of feeling ftrongly, they have no rational feelings
at all. In the wikleft energies of nature there is a
modefty, which the imitative artift will be careful
never to overftep.
2. That figure, by which things are fpoken of
as if they were perfons, is called Profopopeiaj or
Perfonification. It is a bold figure, and yet is of-
ten natural. Long acquaintance recommends to
fome fhare in our affeftion even things inanimate,
lis a houfe, a tree, a rock, a mountain, a country ;
and were we to leave fuch a thing, without hope of
return, we fhould be inclined to addrefs it with a
farewell, as if it were a percipient creature* Nay,
we find that ignorant nations have adtually wor-
ihippcd fuch things, or confidcred them as the
haunt of certain powerful beings. Dryads and
Hamadryads were by the Greeks and Romans
fuppofed to prefide over trees and groves ; river-
gods and nymphs over ftreams and fountains; lit-
tle deities, called Lares and Penaies^ were believed
to be the guardians of hearths and houfes. In
Scotland there is hardly a hill remarkable for the
beauty of its fhape, that was not in former times
thought to be the habitation of fairies. Nay mo-
dern as well as ancient fuperftition has appropri-
ated the waters to a. peculiar fort of demon or gob*
lin.
AND MUSIC. «5^
liti, and peopled the very regions of death, tht
tofilbs and charnel-houfes, with mulcicudes of
ghofts and phaintoms.-^Bendes, when things ina^
nimate make a ftrong imprtflioA upon us, whether
agreeable or otherwife, we are apt to addrefsthem
in terms of affcfiion or diftike. The failor bleflel
the plank that brought him alhore from the fiifp*
wreck } and the pafllonkte man, and fometimei
even the philofopher, will fay bitter words to the
ftumbling-block that gave him a fall. — Moreover,
a man agitated with any interefting paOion, efpe-
cially of long continuance, is apt to fanCy that aH
nature fympathifcs with him. If he has loft a be-
loved • friend, he thinks the fun Icfs bright than
at other times; and in the fighing of the winds
and groves, in the lowings of the herd, and in the
murmurs of the ft ream, he fcems to hear the voice
of lamentation. But when joy or hope predomi-
nate, the whole world afTumei a gay appearance.
In the contemplation of every part of nature, of
every condition of mankind, of every form of bu*
man fociety, the benevolent and the pious^ man,
the morofe and the chearful, the mifer and the
mifanthrope, finds occafion to indulge his favour*
ite palfion, and fees, or thinks he fees, his owa
temper refle&ed back in the aAiqns, fympathies,
and tendencies of other things and perfons. Our
af&£tions are indeed the medium through which
we may be faid to furvcy ourfelves, and every
thing clfe ; and whatever be our inward frame, we
are apt to perceive a wonderful congeniality .ia
the world without us. And hence, the fancy,
when
^^6 ON POETRY
^en roofed by real emotions, or by the pathos oF
«Qinpofiti0n9 ,is eafily reconciled to thofe figures
frf'ipeech that afcribe fympathy, perception, and
tke^ther ^jttributes of animal life, to things inani^^
m9»9 or even to notions merely intelle&uaL— -Mp*
tion^ too, bears a clofe affinity to a£tion, and af-
fefts our imagination nearly in the fame manner ^
fOkd we fee a great part of nature in motion ; and
by their lendbk efieds are led to contemplate
energies innumerable. Thefe condud the rational
mind to the Great Firft Caufe ; and thefe, in times
of ignorance, difpofed the vulgar to believe in a
variety of fubordinate agents enrjployed in pro-
ducing thofe appearances that could not otherwife
.be accounted for. Hence an endlefs train of fa-
l^ulous deities, and of witches, demons, fairies,
^enii ; which^ if they prove our reafon weak and
our fancy lirong, prove alfo, that Perfonification
13 natural to the human mind; and that a right
ufe of this figure may have a powerful efFeft, in
fabulous writing efpecially, to engage our fympa-
thy in behalf of things as well as perfons. For
nothing (as was before oblerved) can give lading
delight to a moral being, but that which awakens
fympathy, and toucfhes the heart : and though it
be true, that we fympathifc in fome degree even
with inanimate things, yet what has, or is fup-
pofod to have, life, calls forth a more fincere and
more permanent fellow-feeling. — Let it be ob-
fcrved further, that to awaken our fympathetic
feelings, a lively conception of their objeft is ne-
ccflary. This indeed is true of almoft all our
emotions %
A N D M U S I C. 257
emotions ; their keennefs is in proportion to the
vivacity of the perceptions that excite them.
Diftrefs that we fee is more afFcfting than what
'we only hear of*; a perufal of the gayeft fcenes
in a comedy does not roufe the mind fo effec- '
tually, as the prefcnce of a chearful companion;
and the death of a friend is of greater energy in
producing ferioufnefs, and the confideration of
our latter end, than all the pathos of Young. Of
defcriptions addrcffcd to the fancy, thofe that arc
mod vivid and pifturefque will generally be
found to have the moft powerful influence over
. our afFeftions f ; and thofe that exhibit perfons
engaged in aftion, and adorned with vifible /»- ,
figniay give a brifker impulfe to the faculties,
than fuch as convey intelleftual ideas only, or
images taken from ftill life. No abftrafl: notion
of Time, or of Love, can be fo ftriking to the
fancy, as the image of an old man accoutered with
a fcythe, or of a beautiful boy with wings and a
bow and arrows: and no phyliological account of
Frenzy could fuggcft fo vivid an idea, as the
poet has given us in that exquifite portrait,
/tnd moody Madnefs laughing wild, atnid fevercft wo^«
• Hor. Ar^ Poet. v^rf. iSpv
+ \ hy generally \ for it is not always fo. Defcriptions of
fublime or terrible objedls have fometimcs a greater effed upon
the mind, when cxpreifed with fome degree of obfcurity, when
^' more is meant than meets the ear/' than if tbey bad been
pi^q^ec] opt in the moft lively manner. See part i. chap, y*
S Ana
,58 ONPOiETRY
And for this reafon partly it is, that the Epie
poet, in order to work the more efie&ually upon
our paflions and imagination, refers the fecret
fprings of human conduft, and the viciflitudcs
of human affairs, to the agency of pcrfonificd
caufes \ that is, to the machinery of gods and
goddefles, angels, demons, magicians, and other
pQwerful beings. And hence, in all fublime
poetry, ]ife and motion, with their feveral modes
^nd attributes, are liberally beflrowed on thofe
cbje£tsi wherewith the author intends that wq
^puld be ftrongly impreffed : fcenes perfcdlly in-
animate and dill, tending rather to diffufe a lan-t
guor over the mind, than to qonimunicatc to our
internal powers thofe lively energies, withQut
which df being effentially ^ftive can never receive
complete gratification.— ^Laftly, fome violent
paflions are peculiarly inclined to change things
intQ perfons, The horrors of his mind haunte4
Oreftes in the (hape of furies, Gonfcience, in the
form of the murdered perfqn, flares the mur-
derer in the face, and often terrifies him to dif*
tradion.. The fupcrftitpus nian, travelling alone
in the dark, miftakes a white ftpne for a ghoft,
a bg(h for a demon, a tree waving with the
wind fCr ^ gian^: bfandiftijng 9 hundred arms,
The lunatic and enthufiaft cohvcrfe with perfons
who exift only in 'their own diftempered fancy :
^nd the glutton, and the mifer, if they were to
give utterance tq all their thoughts, would often,
1 dare fay, fpeak, the one of his gold, the othef
f^f his belly, not only ^ a perfon, but ^ a god,
AND MUSIC 259
4P— the objeft of his warmed love, and moft de«
vout regard. — More need not be faid to prove,
that Perfonification is natural, and may frequent-
ly contribute to the pathos, energy, and beauty;
of poetic language.
3. Jpoftropbe^ or a fudden diverfion of fpeech
from one perfoh to another perfon or thing, is a
figure nearly related to the former. Poets fome-
times make ufe of it, in order to help out their
verfe, or merely to give variety to their ftyle :
but on thofe occafions it is to be confidered as
rather a trick of art, than an effort of nature. It
is mod: natural, and mod pathetic, when the per-
fon or thing to whom the apoflrrophe is made»
and for whofe fake we give a new dircdlion to
our fpeech, is in our eyes eminently didinguifhcd
for good or evil, or raifes within us fome fudden
and powerful emotion, fuch as the hearer would
acquiefce in, or at lead acknowledge to be rea*
fonable. But this, like the other pathetic figures,
mud: be ufed with great prudence. For if, in*
dead of calling forth the hearerV fympathy, it
ihould only betray the levity of the fpcaker, or
fuch wanderings of his mind as neither the fubjedl
^or the occadon would lead one to expe6l, it will
(hen create difgud, indead of approbation. The
orator, therefore, mud not attempt the paflionate
appdrophe, till the minds of the hearers be pre-
pared to join in it. And every audience is not
equally obfequious in this refpeft. In the forum
of ancient Rome that would have palTed for
fvibljme and pathetic, which in the mod refpedt-
§ 4 able
u6o ONPOETRY
jiblc Britifh auditories would appear ridiculous^
For our ftyle of public fpeaking is cool and ar-
gumentative, and partakes lefs of enthufiafm .than
the Roman did, and much lefs than the modern
French or Italian. Of Britifli eloquence, parti-
cularly that of the pulpit, the chief recomnrien-
dations are gravity and fimplicity. Arid it is
vain to fay; that oqr oratory ought to be more
vehement: for that matter depends on caufes,
which it is not only inexpedient, bu? impofliblc
\o alter ; nan^ely, op the charafter and Ipirit of
the people, and their rational notiqns in regard |;q
religion, policy, and literature. The exclama-
tions of Cicero would weigh but little in our
Parliament ; and many of thofe which we meet
with in Ffcnch fermpns would qot be more cf-
fedlual if attempted in our pulpit. To fee one
of our preachers, who the moment before was a
cool reafoner, a temperate fpeaker, an humble
^hriftiap, anc} an orthodojj divine, break out in-
to a fudden apoftrophe to tht immortal ^owerSy or
to the walls qf thf Churchy tends to force a fmile,
rather than a tear, from tho(e among us who re-
flect, that ther^ is nothing in tl>e fubjeft, and
ihould be nqthing in jhc orator, to warrant fuch
ivanderings of fancy, qr vehemence of emotion.
If he be carefpl to cultivate a pure ftyle, and a
grave and graceful qtterance, a Britifli clergyman^
who fpeaks from conviftion the plain unaffefted
words of truth and fobernefs, of benevolence
gnd pipty, ^ili, if I miftake not, copycy niorc
patheti
tic
1
A K b M u s I (:. i6i
J^athciic, as well as more permanent, impireflions
to the heart, and be more ufeful as a Chriftiart
teacher, than if he were to put in pradice all the
attitudes of Rofcius, and all tt\e tropes and figures
of Cicero ♦.
But where the language of pafTion and enthii-
fiafm is permitted to difplay itfclfj whatever
raifes any ftrong emotion, whether it be anima-
ted or inanimate, abfent or prefent, fenfible or
intelleftual, may give rife to the apoftrophc.
A man in a diftant country, fpeaking of the
place of his birth, might naturally cxclaiiti, " O
** my dear native land, fliall I never fee thee
*' more !" Or, when fome great misfortune he-
fals him, ** Happy are ye, O nly parents, thit
•* you are not alive to fee this !" — We have a
beautiful apoftrophe in the third book of the
Eheid, where Eneas, who is telling his ftory to
Dido, happening to mention the death of his
father, makes a fudden addrefs to him as fol-
lows 2
* That this m^y ntit he mifanderftdod, 1 beg leave to fubjoia
iSL rems^k or two* The player's intention is to pleafe by iini*
tating nature. An orator in an ancient republic addrelTing the
people in the forum had nothing in view, but to operate upon
their paflions^ and difpofe them to give an immediate afTent*
to (omfi public meafurei The preacher's purpofe, quite difFs-
^ent, and infinitely more important, is to make all his hearers
tinderftandy believe, and obey the gofpel. But theatrical gef-
iur^s, and th^it fonordus eloquence which We medt with in Cf^
tero, produce no lading cffc6k when attempted in the pulpit;
' for though they ihay plcifc the eye of the *ar, they. Teem to
draw the attention of the audience rather to the fpeaker, than
to what is fpoken^
S 3 -^hic,
iSz O N JP O E T R Y
---—hie, pelagi tot tempeftatibus z6tiX9i
Heu, genitorem, omnis curat cafufque levamen^
Amitto Anchifen ;«*btc me, pater optime, fefluiat
Deferisy heu, tantis nequicquam erepte periclis !
I'his apoftrophe has a pleafing eiFed. It feem»
€0 intimate, that the love which the hero bore
his father was fo great, that when he mentioned
him, he forgot every thing elfc; and, without
minding his company, one of whom was a queeuy
fuddenly addrefied himfelf to that which, though
preient only, in idea, was ftill a principal objeft
of his affedlion. An emotion fo wdrm and fo rea-
ibnable cannot fail to command the fympathy
of the reader *. — When Michael, in the eleventh
book of Paradife Loft, announces to Adam and
Eve the neceflity of their departure from the
garden of Eden, the poet's art in preferving the
decorum of the two charafters is very remark*
able; Pierced to the heart at the thought of
leaving that happy place. Eve, in all the vio- .
Jence of ungovernable forrow, breaks forth into*
a pathetic apojlrdphe to Paradife, to the flowers
ihc had reared, and to the nuptial bower Ihc
had adorned. Adam makes no addrers to the
walks, the trees, or the flowers of the' gafden^
the lois whereof did not io much afBi£t him ^
♦ In this narrative of Eneas, there arc other examples of
the apoflrophe, equally jadicioas and beautifuU See particu-
larly ^neid. II» v. 24.1 » O patria, O Divum domus, &€•-— ^
V, 431. Iliaci ciperet, &c»«-^ v» 664* Hoc eiat>. alma Parens^
buti
A N D M U S 1 C ft6|
but, in his reply to the Archangel, exprefles^
without a figurt^ his regret iot being baniflted
from a place where he bad fo oft been honoured
with a manifeftation of the Divine Prefence.
The ufe of the apoftrophe in the one cafe, and
the omidion of it in the other, not only gives a
beautiful variety to the flyle, but alfo marks that
fuperior elevation and compofure of mind, by
which the poet had all along diftinguiihed the
charaftcr of Adam. — One of the fincft applica-
tions of this figure that is any where to be fcen,
is in the fourth book of the fame Poem 5 where
the author, catching by fympathy the devotion
of our firft parents, fuddenly drops his narrative,
and joins his voice to theirs in adoring the fa*
therof the univerfe.
Thus at their (hady lodge arrived, both flood^
iBoth turned, and under open (ky adored
The God that made both Iky, air, e^^th, and heaven^
Which they beheld, the moon's refplendent globe,
AQd ftarry pole:— Thou alfo mad'ft the night.
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the day, ^
Which we In our appointed work employed
Have finifh'd.— —
Milton took the hint of this fine contrivance frogi
a well-known paflage of Virgil :
Hicjuvenum chorus, illefenuoij qui carmloe laudes
Herculeas et fa£la ferantj —
-ut duros mille labores
Rege Tub Euryilheo, fatis Junonis iniquas
Pertulerit:-^Tu nubigenas, invi^e^ bimembres
S 4 Hyl^uoi
z64 O N P O E T R Y
Hylseuna Pholoumquc manu ; tu Crcfia md£U^ :
Prodigia. #
The beauty arifmg from diverfified compofitiort
is the fame in both, and very great in eacb.
But every reader muft feel^ that the figure is in-
comparably more affedting to the mind in the
imitation, than in the original. So true it is»
that the moft rational emotions raife the moft. in-
tenfe fellow-feeling -, and that the apoftrophe is
then the moft emphatical, when it difplays thofe
workings of humaft afifeftion, which arc at once
ardent, and well founded.
A full difcuffion of the prefent topic would
require a methodical and more particular ac-
count of the feveral tropes and figures, their con-
gruity to human f motions, and their effefts m
writing. But thcfe few remarks will perhaps be
thought to prove, with fufEcient evidence, the
utility of figurative expreffion in making language
more pleajing and more natural. I (hall there-
fore only add, that tropes and figures, particu-
larly the metaphor^ Jimilitude^ and allegory^ are-
farther ufcful in beautifying language,, by fug-
gefting, together with the thoughts cflTential to
the fubje&i an cnd|e6 variety of agreeable ima-
ges, for which there would be no place, if wai-
ters were always to confine themfelvcs to the pr^-
^^r .names of things. And this beauty and va-
riety, judicioufly applied, h fo far from diftradt-
ing, that it tends rather to fix the attention, and
* See a TiroiUr in{bu)ce, Taflb Gier. Ub. iS. ft. 14*
captivate
AN D M as I C 2<5
captivate the heart of the reader, by giving lights
and life, and pathos to the whole compofition.
II. The end of Poetry, above all other lite-
rary arts, is to pleafe by imitating nature. I
have now (hown, that by tropes and figures Ian*
guage may be made more natural and more pleaf*
ing, that it could be without them. It follows that
tropes and figures are morencceffary to poetry, thaa
to any other mode of writing : — which is the fecond
point propofed to be illuftrated in this ieflion.
The fame point might be proved from other
confiderations. Language, as fhown already, is
then natural, when it is fuitable to the fuppofcd
condition of the fpeaker. Figurative language is
peculiarly fuitable to the fuppofcd condition of
the poet; becaufe figures are fuggefted by the
fancy •, and the fancy of him who compofes poe-
try is more empkyed, than that of any other
author. Of all LiRorical, phiiofophical, and
theological refearc^s, the objed is real truth,
which is fixed and permanent. The aim of rhe-
torical declamation (according to Cicero) is ap^
parent truth j which, being lefs determinate,
leaves the fancy of the fpeaker more free, gives
greater fcope to the inventive powers, and fup.
plies the materials of a more figurative phrafeo-
logy. But the poet is fubjeft to no reftraints,
but thofe of verifimilitude ; which is ftill lefs de-
terminate than rhetorical truth. He feeks not
to convince the judgment of his reader by argu-
ments of either real or apparent cogency ; he
means only to pleafe him, by an appeal to his
fenfibility
s
266 ONPOETRit
ienfibiHty and imagination. His own imaglna«»
gination is therefore continually at work, I'^nging
through the whole of real and probable exiftence,
f< glancing from heaven to earth, fr6m earth to
•* heaven,** in qucft of images and ideas fuited
to the emotions he faimfelf feels, and to the fym-
pathies he would communicate to others. And^
confcquently, figures of fpecch, the offspring of
excurfive fancy, muft (if he fpeak according to
what he is fuppofed to think and feel, that is^
according to his fuppofed condition) tindure the
language of the poet more than that of any otl^r
compofer. So that, if figurative didtion be un«
natural in geometry, becaufe all wanderings of
fancy are unfuitable, and even impoffible, to the
geometrician, while intent upon his argument!
it is, upon the fame principle, perfeftly natural*
and even unavoidable in poetry ; becaufe the more
a poet attends to his fubjed, and the better qua^
lified he is to do it juftice, the more aftive will
his imagination be, and the more diverfified the
ideas that prefent themfelves to his mind. Be*
fides, the true poet addreffes himfelf to the paf-
fions and fympathies of mankind; which, till
his own be raifed, he cannot hope to do with
fuccefs. And it is the nature of many paffions,
though not of all, to increafe the adivity of
imagination: and an a£live imagination natural*
!y vents itfelf in figurative language -, nay, unlei^
reftrained by a corre£t tafte, has a tendency to
exceed in it 5— of which Bilhop Taylor, and Lor4
Vcrulam,
A N D M U S I C 467
Vcrulam, ^two geniufcs different in kind, but of
the higbeft order, are memorable examples.
I faid, that ** the poet feeks not to convince
*• the judgment of his reader by arguments of
** cither real or apparent cc^ency.^ I do not
mean, that in poetry argument has no place.
The moft legitimate reafoning, the foundeft phi-
lofophy, and narratives purely hiflorical, may
appear in a poem, arid co^tfibute grefatl^y to the
honour of the author, and to the importance of
his work. All this we have in Paradife Loft.
I mean^ that what diftinguilhes purt poetry from
other writing, is its aptitude, not to fway the
judgment by reafoning, biit to pleafe the fancy,
and move the pafCons, by a lively imitatioa
fd nature. Nor would I exclude poetical em-
belli(fament from hiftory, or even from phiIo(b^
phy. Plato's Dialogues and Addifon's Moral
£flays abound in poetic i^nagery? aUd Livy
and Tacitus often amufe their readers witii
poetical defcription. In like manner, though
Geometry and Phy(ics be different fciences^
thotigh abftraA ideas be the fiibjeA, and pure
dcmohftration or intuition the evidence, of the
former; and though the nyaterial univerfe, and
the informations of fenfe, be the fubjedt and the
evidence of the latter; yet have thefe fcienccs
beeA united by the beft philofophers, and verf
liappy eSeds refulted from the union. In one
'and the fame wbrk, poetry, hiftory, pbilofophy,
and oratory, may doubtIc& be blended; nay,
theie
f
t6J ON POETRY
thefe arts have a&ually been blended in one an^
the fame work, not by Milton only, but alfo by
Homer, Virgil, Lucan, and Shakefpcare. Yet
ftill thefe arts are different; — diflFereftt in their
ends, and principles, and in the faculties of the
mind to which they are refpedlively addrefled i
and it is eafy to perceive, when a writer employ^
one, and when another.
m
III. A reafon why tropes and figures, are more
neceflary in fome forts of poetry, than in others,
it is not difficult to'aflign. This depends on
the condition of the fuppofed fpeaker, particular-
ly on the date of his imagination and pallions*
When the foul pines with forrow, or languiflies \n
iove, it keeps its view more fteadily .fixed on
one or a few ideas, than when it is pofTefled with
cnthufiafm, or agitated by jealbufy, revenge, in-
dignation, anxiety, or any other turbulent emo-
tion. In the former cafe it is inaAive; in the
latter^ reftlefs ;
•Magno curarum flu^uat asflu.
Atque animum nunc hue celerem, nunc dividtt illuc^
In partefque rapit varias, perque omnia verfat ;
and therefore in the one cafe it will be occupied
by few ideas, and in the other by many. The
ftylc, therefore, of the amorous or mournful
elegy, in order to be imitative of the language
of forrow or defponding love, muft be fimplcf,
and lefs diverfified by figures, than that of the
dithyrambiG
A N D M U S I C. 269
dithyrambic fong, or of any other poem in which
the fpeaker is fuppofed to be greatly agitated,
I have heard the fineft Ode in the world blaqfi^^d
for the boldncfs of its figures, and for what, the
critic was plcafed to call obfcurity. He had^
I fuppofc, formed his tafte upon Anacreon and
"Waller, whofe Odes are indeed very fimple, and
would have been very abfurd, if they had not
been fimple. But let us rccoUeft the circum*
fiances of Anacreon (confidered as the fpeaker
of his own poetry), and of Gray's -Wellh Bard.
The former warbles his lays, reclining on a bed
pf flowers, difiblved in tranquillity and indolence,
while all his faculties feem to be engrofTed by one
or a few pleafurable objefts. The latter, juft
^fcaped from the maflacre of his brethren, under
(he complicated agitations of grief, revenge, and
dcfpair; and fqrroundcd with the fcenery of
rocks, mountains, and torrents, ftupendous by
pature, aqd now rendered hideous by defolation,
imprecates perdition upon the bloody Edward 5
and, fei^ed with prophetic enthufiafm, foretells
jn the moft alarming ftrains, and typifies by the
pioft dreadful images, the difafters that were to
pvprtake his family and defcendents. If perfpi- '
culty and limplici^y be natural in the fongs of
Anacreon, as they certainly are, a figurative ftyle
?ind diefultory compofition are no Icfs natural in
this inimitable performance of Gray. And if real
prophecy muft always be fo obfciire, as not to be
fullv underftood till it is accompli (hed, becaufe
' ptherwife
tjQ ONPOETRY
othcrwifc k Would interfei-c with the free agency
of roan, that poerp which imitates the ftyle o£
prophecy, muft alfo, if natural, be to a certafn
degree obfcure •, not indeed in the images or
words, but in the allufions. And it is in the al-
lufions only, not in the words or images (for
thefc are moft emphatical and pidturefque), that
this poem parwkcs of obfcurity 5 and even its
allufions will hardly feem obfcure to thofe who
arc acquainted with the hiftory of England.
Thofe critics,, therefore, who find fault with this
poem, becaufe it is not fo fimple as the fongs of
Anacreon, or the love-vcrfes of Shenftone and
Waller, may as well blame Shakcfpeare, becaufe
Othello does not fpcak in the fwect and fimple
language of Defdemona. Horace has no where
attempted a theme of fuch animation and fubli-
mity,' as this of Gray ; and yet Horace, like hi9
mader Pindar, is often bold in his tranfitions,
and in the ftyle of many of his odes extremely '
figurative. But this we not only excufe, but ap^
plaud, when we confider, that in thofe odes the
affumed character of the fpeak^r is enthufiafm^
which in all its operations is fomewhat violent^
and muft therefore give vehemence both to
thought and to language.
On what principle, then, it may be faid, arc
we to look for fimplicity and exaft arrangement,
in the ftyle of an Epic poem? Why is not the
language of the Iliad and iEneid as figurative as
that of Pindar ? To this 1 anfwer, fi^ft, Tha;
tb^'
A N D M U S I C. 27f
the alTamed charafter of the Epic poet is calm
iofpirationy the effefts whereof upon the mind
jnuft be ftippofcd to be very different from thoic
produced by enthufiafoi or prophetic rapture ^
regularity and compofure being as eflential to the
foroier, as wildnefs and vehemence are to the
latter : and, fecondly. That a very figurative
^yle continued through a long work becomes
tirefome -, and therefore, that all poems of great
length ought to be methodical in the plan, and
fimple in the execution. Abrupt tranfition, bold-
• ncfs of figure, and thoughts elevated almoft to
extravagance, may pleafe in a fhort poem; as
the dainties of a banquet, and the fplendour of a
triumph, may ampfe for a day : but much feaft-.
ing deftroys health, and perpetual glare and cu-
mult ftupify the fenfes ; and the high lyric ftyle
continued through many pages would fatigue the
attention, confound the judgment, and bewilder
jhe fan^y.
CHAP. II.
Qf the Sound pf P<^etical Language.
IT h folly to prefer found to fenfe. Yet the
ear, like every other perceptive faculty, is
capable of gratification -, and therefore to the
found of words feme regard is to be had, even in
profe. For ill-fouAding language can never be
igreeabie, eithf^r to the hearer or to the fpeaker ;
and
tiyt O N P O E T R Y
and of different modifications of well-founding^
language fome will be found to be more agree--
able than others. It is the bufinefs of the poet to
make his ftyle as agreeable, and confequently as
plcafing to the ear, as the nature of the fubjeft
will allow. And to the harmony of language it
behoves him, more than any other writer, to at-^
tend ; as it is more efpeeially his concern to
render his work pleafurable. In faft we find,
that no poet was ever popular who did not pof-
fefs the art of harmonious compofition.
What I have to fay on the fubjeft of PoeticaJ
Harmony may be referred to one or other of
thefc heads ; Sweetnefs, Meafgre, Jind Imita.-
tion^
1. In order to give fweetmfi to language, either
in vcrfe or profe, all words of h^rih found, dif-
ficult pronunciation, or unwieldy magnitude, are
to be avoided as much as poffible, uplcfs wbea
they have in the found fomerhing peculiarly ex^
preflive; and words are to be fo placed in re-
fpedt of one another, as that difcordant combi-
nations may not refult from their union. But ia
poetry this is more neceffary than in profe ; pocr
tical language being underftood to be an imita- .
txon of natural language improved to that per-
feftion which is confident with probability. To
poetry, therefore, a greater latitude muft be al-
lowed than to profe, in expreffing, by tropes
gnd figures of pleafing found, thofe id^as where^-
A i^ b M U S I C. / iy^
t>f the proper names arc in any refpf ft offdnfire^
either to the ear or to the fanqr*.,
II. How far verfification or regular meafuri
may be eflential to this art, has bM^n difputed by
critical writers $ fome holding iy to be indifpen*
fably neccflkry, and fome not/neceflary at all*
"Without recapitulating what/has been faid by ,
others, I fhall only deliver my own opinion^
which, if I miftake not, 4i\\\ be found to agree
vrith the principles already eftablilhed.
Firft, then, I am of opinion, that to poetry /
yerfe is not eflential* In a profe work, we may
have the fable, the arrangement, aild a great
deal of the pathos, and language, of poetry; and
fuch a work is certainly a poem, though per-^
haps not a perfeft one^ For how abfurd would
it be to fay, that by changing the politioti only
of a word or two in each line, one might dived
Homer's Iliad of the poetical chara^er ! At this
rate, the arts of poetry and verfification would ht
the fame; and the rules in Defpauter's Grammar,
^nd the moral diftichs afcribed to Cato, would
be as real poetry as any part of Virgil. In faft^
fome very ancient poems, when tranflatcd into a
modern tongue, are far lefs poetical in verfe than
in profe; the alterations neceflary to adapt them
tp our numbers being detrimental to their fublime
fimplicity ; of which any perfon of tafte will bd
lenfible, who compares our common profe ytU
^ See part 2. chap. 1. k^. 3. ^ I. i, 2«
T fioo
2^4 ON POETRY
fion of Job, the Pfalms, and Song of $otomon»
with the bell: metrical parapbrafe .of thofe books
that Jias yet appeared •. Nay, ia many cafes.
Comedy yfiW be more poetical^ becaufe more
plcafing and natural, in profe, than in verfe*
By verfifying Tom Jones and The Merry Wires
of Windfor, we Ihould fpoil the two fincft Co-
mic poem^, the one Epic, the other Dramatical^
now in the world.
But, fecondly, Though vcrfe be not e0entiat
to poetry, it is neceflary to the pcrfeSion of all
poetry that admits of it» Vcrfe is to poetry,
what colours are to painting f. A painter might
difplay great genius, and draw mafterly figures
with chalk or ink; but if he intend a perfed pic*
• Madame Dacier^ zealous to vindicate Ker Homer, feemt
to carry the encomiam on profe-tranflation ratber too far,
when fhe exclaims^ •* Ouy, je ne crains poiat de le dire, et jp
** pourro4s le prouver, les poetes traduits ea vers cefTent d'etre
** pcetes,** But (he is right in what (he fays a little after:
*^ £n fait de tratluflion,. il y a fouvent dans la profe one pre-
*' ci£oR, une beaule, et une force, dont la poefie ne peut ap**
•* prochej*. Les livres des Prophctes, ct les Pfaumes^ dans I»
<^ valgate meme, (bnt pleins de pafl^ges, que le plos grand
** poece dtt moftde ne fyaoroit rendre en vers» fans kur faiie
•* perdre de Icor majeile, et de leur encrgie.'*
Preface a VUiade de Mad. Daeitr^ /• 39*
f Horace feems to hint at the fame coroparifon, when> after
fpecifying the feveral Torts of verfe foiiable taEpic, Elegiatf^
Lyricy. and Dramatic Poetry, he adds,.
Deicriptas fervare vices, operumqui eoIareSf
Cur ego> il ne^ueo ignoroque, Poeta falutor ?
Jr. Poet* vtrf. 86»
A N D M tj S I C. 275
ture, he ttiuft employ in his work as many co-
lours as are. feen in the obje6t he imitates. Or,
to adopt a beautiful comparifon of Demofthenes,
quoted by Ariftotle t» " Verfification is to poetry
•« what bloom is to the human countenance.**
A good face is agreeable when the bloom is
gone ; and good poetry may pleafe without ver^
Mcation ; harmonious numbers may fet off art
indifferent poem, and a fine bloom indifferent
features : but, without verfe, poetry is incom-
plete ; and beauty is not perfcft, unlefs to fweet-
nefs and regularity pf feature there be fuper-^
added.
The bloom of young defire, and purple light of love.
If numbers are neceflary to the perfedliort of thd
higher poetry, they are no lefe fo to that of thtf
lower kinds, to Paftoral, Song, and Satire^
which have little befides the language and verfi*
fication to diftinguifli them from profe j and which
fome ancient authors are unwilling to admiit to the
rank of poems j — though I think it too nice a
fcruple, both becaufe fuch writings are common-
ly termed Poetical, and alfo becaufe there is,
even in them, fomething that may not improper-
ly be confidered as an imitation of nature.
. That the rhythm and meafures of vcrfc are rta-*
turally agreeable ; and therefore, that by thefc
poetry may be made more pleafmg^ than it would
f AriAot. Rhetor. lib. 3. cap^ 4*
T a b«
^7^ ONPOETRY
be without them, is evident from this, that chil-
dren and illiterate people, whofc admiration we
cannot fuppofe to be the efFcfl: of habit or pre-*
judice, are exceedingly delighted with them«
In many proverbial fayings, where there is nci- •
ther rhime nor alliteration *, rhythm is obvioufly
ft tidied. Nay, the ufe of rhythm in poetry is
univerfal ; whereas alliteration and rhime, though
reliflied by fome nations, are not much fought
after by others. And we need not be at 4 lofs to
accouht for the agreeablenefs of proportion and
ojder, if we refleft, that they fuggeft the agree-
able ideas of contrivance and (kill, at the fame
tinoe that they render the connexion of things
obvious to the underftanding, and imprint it
deeply on the memdry f . Verfe, by promoting
diftinft and eafy remembrance, conveys ideas to
the mind with energy, and enlivens every emo-
tion the poet intends to raife in the reader or
hearer. Befides, when we attend to Verfes, after
hearing one or two, we become accjudrtted with
, Che meafure, which therefore we always look for
in the fcquel. This perpetual interchange of
hdpe and gratification is a fource of delight;
and to this; in part is owing the pleafure we
take in the rhimes of modern poetry. And hence
we fee, that though an incorred rhime, or un-
tuneable verfe, be in itfelf, and compared with
• See Effay on Laughter, chap. 2. fcft. 3.
f On the effects of Rhythm in inufic» fee above, part i«
chap« 6« fe£t» a. § 4.
an
A N D M U S 1 a 177
an important fentimcnt, a very trifling matter ;
yec it is no trifle in regard to its efFcfts on the
hearer -, becaufe it brings difappointment, and fo
gives, a temporary ftiock to the mind, and in-
terrupts the current of the aflTeftions j and be^
caufe it fuggefts the difagreeablc ideas of neglir
gence or want of Ikill on the part of the author.
And therefore, as the public ear becomes, more
delicate, the negligence will be more glaring, and
the difappointmcnt more intenfely felt; and cor-r
reftnefs of rhime and of meafure will of courfc
be the more indifpenfable. In our tongue, rhimc
is more neceflfary to Lyric, than to Heroic poe^
try. The reafon feems to be, that in the latter
the ear can of itfelf perceive the boundary of the
meafure, becaufe the lines are all of equal length
nearly, and every good reader makes a fliort paufe
at the end of each : whereas, in the former, the
lines vary in length •, and therefore the rhimc
is requifite to make the meafure and rhythm
fufliciently perceptible. Cuftom too may have
fome influence. Englifli Odes without rhime
are uncommon •, and therefore havg fome-
thing aukward about them, or fomething at leaft
to which the public ear is not yet thoroqghly re«p
(:onciled.
Moreover, in poetry, as in mufic, rhythm is
the fource of much pleafing variety -, of variety
tempered with uniformity, and regulated by art:
infomuch, that, notwithflanding the likenefs of
one hexameter verfe to another, it is not com-
IWon, cither in Virgil or in Homer, to meet with
T 3 twQ
»78 O N P O E T R Y
two contiguous hexameters, whofe rhime is ex-
aftly the fame. And thoi^gh all Englilh heroic
verfes confift of five feet, among which the lam-
t)ic predominates ; yet this mcafure, in refpcdt
of rhythm alone, is fufceptible of more than thir-
ty varieties. And let it be remarked further, th^t
different kinds of verfe, by being adapted to dif-
ferent, fubjefts and modes of writing, ^ive variety
to the poetic language, and multiply the charms
of this pleaTing art.
. What has formerly been (hown to be true in
regard to'ftyle, will alfo in many cafes hold true
of verfificationj *' that it is then natural^ when it
*' is adapted to the fuppofed condition of the
f* fpeaker." — In the Epopee, the poet aflumes
the charaftcr of calm infpiration j and therefore
his language muft be elevated, and his numbers
jmajeftic and uniform. A peafant fpeaking in he-
roic or hexameter verfe is no improbability here ^
becaufe his words are fuppofed to be tranfmittecj
by one who will of his own accord give them
every ornament neceflary to reduce them intq
dignified meafure -, as an eloquent man, in a fo-
lemn aflembly, recapitulating the fpeech of a
clo\yn, would naturally exprefs it in pure andi
perfpicuous language. The uniform heroic mea-
fure will fuit any fubjeft of dignity, whether
narrative or didaftic, that admits or requires uni-
formity of ftyle.— In Tragedy, where the imita-
tion of real life is more perfeft than in Epic
poetry, the uniform magnificence of Epic num-
bers might be improper \ becaufe the heroes anc^
'7 heroines
AND MUSIC. 479
ikeromes arc fuppofcd to fpcak in their own per-
(onSf and according to the immediate impulfe of
paflion and fentimcnt. Yet even in Tragedy, the
veriification may be both harmonious and digni*
fied; becaufe the charaftcrs are taken chiefly
from high life, and the events from a remote pe-
riod; and becaufe the higher poetry is permitted
to imitate nature, not as it is, but in that (late
of perfeftion, in which it might be. The Greeks
and Romans confidcred their hexameter 'as too
artificial for Dramatic poetry *, and therefore in
tragedy, and even in comedy, made ufe of the
Iambic, and fome other meafurcs that came near
the cadence of converfation : we ufe the Iambic
both in the epic and dramatic poem; but, for the
moft part, it is, ot ought to be, more elaborate in
the former, than in the latter. — In Dramatic Co-
medy, where the manners and concerns of fami-
liar life are exhibited, Verfe would feem to be un-
natural, except it be fo like the found of Com-
mon difcourfe, as to be hardly diftinguifhable
from it. Cuftom, however, may in fome coun-
tries determine otherwife ; and againft cuftom, in
thefe matters, it is vain to argue. — The profeffed
enthufiafm of the dithyrambic poet renders wild-
nefs, variety, and a foriorous harmony of num-
bers peculiarly fuitable to his odes. The love-
fonnet, and Anacreontic fong, will be kfs various,
more regular, and of 'a fofter harmony ; becaufe
fhg ftate of mind exprcfled in it has more com-
• Ariftot. Poet, cap, 4,
7 i pofure.
i^0 ON P O E TR ^
pofurc— Philofopby can fcarce go further in thi*
inveftigation. . The particular forts of vcrfe, t€>
be adopted in the lower fpecies of poetry, are
determined by fafhion chiefly, and the pradicc a£
approved authors.
III. The origin and principles of imitative har-
mony, or of that artifice by which the found is
made, as Pope fays, " an echo to the fenfe/'
may be explained in the following manner.
It is pleafing to obferve the uniformity of
pature in all her operations. Between moral and
material beauty and harmony, between moral and
material deformity and diflbnance, there obtains a
very ftriking analogy. The vifible and audible
jcxprefllons of almoft every virtuous emotion are
agreeable to the eye and the ear, and thofe of al-
moft every criminal paffion difagreeable. The
looks, the attitudes, and the vocal founds, natu-
ral to benevolence, to gratitude, to companion,
to piety, are in themfelves graceful and pleafing;
while anger, difcontent, defpair, and cruelty
bring difcord to the voice, deformity to the fea-
tures, and diftortion to the limbs. That flowing
(Curve, which painters know to be eflential to the
beauty of animal fliape, gives place to a multi-
plicity of right lines and fliarp angles in the coun?
tenancc ^nd gefl:ure of him who knits his brows,
ftretchefi his noftrils, grinds his teeth, and clenches
his fift •, whereas devotion, magnanimity, bene-
volence, contentment, and good-humour, foften
tl)e attitude, and give a more graceful fwell to
A N D M U S I C. u8f
the outline of every feature. Certain vocal tones
accompany certain mental emotions. The voice
of forrow is feeble and broken, that of defpair
boifterous and incoherent; joy aflfames a Tweet
and fprightly note, fear a weak' and tremulous
cadence ; the tones of love and benevolence are
mufical and uniform, thofe of rage loud and dif*
fonant ; the voice of the fedate reafoncr is equable
and grave, but not unpleafant ; and he who de-
claims with energy employs many varieties of mo-
dulation fuited to the various emotions that pre*
dominate in his difcourfe.
But it is not in the language of padion only,
that the human voice varies its tone, or the hu-
man face its features. Eyery ftriking fcntiment,
and every intcrefting idea, has an effed upon it..
One would efteem that perfon no adept in Nar-
rative eloquence, who (hould dcfcribe with the
very fame accent, fwift and flow motion, extreme
labour and eafy performance, agreeable fenfation
and excruciating pain ; who Ihould talk of the
tumult of a tempeftuous ocean, the roar of thun-
der, the devaftations of an earthquake, or an
Egyptian pyramid tumbling into ruins, in the
fame tone of voice wherewith he defcrioes the
murmur of a rill, the warbling of the harp of
Eolus, the fwinging of a cradle, or the defcent
of an angel. Elevation of mind gives dignity
to the voice. From Achilles, Sarpedon, and
DthellO) we expeft a manly and fonorous accent,
gs well as a nervous ftyle and majeftic attitude.
Cox-
«82 ONPOETRY
Coxcombs and bullies, while they aflume airs of
importance and valour, alfeft alfo a dignified ar-
ticulation.
Since the tones of natural, language are fq va-
rious, Poetry, which imitates the language of
nature, muft alfo vary its tones ; and, in refpedt
of foi^nd as well as of meaning, be framed af-
ter that model of ideal perfeftion, which the va-
riety and energy of the human articulate voice
render probable. This is the more eafily ac»
complillied, becaufe, in every language, there is
between the found and fenfe of certain words a
perceptible analogy j which, though not fo ac-
curate as to lead a foreigner from the found to
ihcTignification *, is yet accurate enough to (how,
that,
• There is in Taflb*s Gieru/ahmme Li her at a a famous ftan-
^» of which Rovfleau fays, that a good ear add fincere heart
are alone fuificient to enable one to judge of it. The imi-
fative harmony and the poetry are indeed admirable ; bat \
doubt whether a perfon who underf^ands neither Italian nor
Xatin could even guefs at the meaning from the found. I have
attempted it in Englifh^ but am unable to do it juilice.
* Chiama gli habitator de. I'ombre eterne
II rauco fuon de la tartarea tromba :
Treman le fpaciofe atrc caverne,
£t Taer cieco a quel rumor rimbomba ;
Ne flridendo cofi da le fuperne
Rcgioni del cielo il folgor piomba ;
Ne fi fcoffa giamai trema la terra,
Quando i yapori in len gravida fcrra. Can. \,Jt, 4,
To call the tribes that roam the Stygian (hores.
The hoaxfe Tartarean trump in thunacr roars ;
Hctt
A N D MUSIC: 29$
that, in forming fuch words, regard has been had to
the imitative qualities of vocal found. Such, in
Englifli, are the words yell, cralh, crack, hifs,
roar, murmur, and many others.
All the particular laws that regulate this fort
of imitation, as far as they are founded in nature,
and liable to the cognizance of philofophy, de-
pend on the general lawof ftyle above mentioned.
Together with, the other circumftances of the
fuppofed 'fpeaker, the poet takes into confidera-
tion the tone of voice fuitable to the thoughts
that occupy his mind, and thereto adapts the
found of his language, if it can be done con*
fiftently with eafe and elegance of exprcffion.
But when this imitative harmony is too much
fought after, or words appeal:^ to be chofen for
founds rather than fenfe, the verfe becomes finical
and ridiculous *.
Words
Hell through her trembling caverns darts aghaft»
And night's black void rebellows to the blaft :
JFar Icfs the peal that rends th*ethereal world.
When bolts of vengeance from on high are huil'd ;
Far lefs the (hock that heaves earth's tottering frame.
When its torn entrails fpout th'imprifon'd flame.
• Sach is Ronfard's aiFe<51ed imitation of the fong of the iky
lark :
£lle guindee du zephire
Sublime en Pair vire et revire,
Et y declique un joli cris.
Qui rit, guerit, et tire lire
Dcs efpriis mieux que je n'ecris.
This
^84. O N P O E T R Y
Words by their found may imitate founds and
quick or flow articulation may imitate quick or
flow motion. Hence, by a proper choice and
arrangement of words, the poet may imitate.
Sounds that are. Sweet with dignity *,— Sweet and
t^ndpr f, — Lovjd :j;,— and iiarlh||5 — and Mo.-
tiom
' THis is as ridiculous as that line of Ennfus.
Tarn tuba terribili fouita taratantara dixit :
' Or 39 the following vcrfcs of Swift ;
< The man with the kett!e.-df am enters the gate,
! I)ub dub a dub dub : the trumpeters follow,
Tantara tantara*; while all the boys hollow.
. * No fooner bad th 'Almighty ceas'd, than aU
The multitude of AngeU, with a fhopc
Loud as from numbers without number, fweet
As from bleft voices uttering joy ; heaven rung
With jubilee, and loud hofannas iiird
^^he eternal regions.—- — Par. Loft, boot 3,
Z6c alfo the night-dorm of thunder, lightning, windj, and rain^^
in Virg. Georg. lib, i,verf. 3z8, — 334.
f £t longum, formoljp, vale^ vale, inqult, lola. fVr^ . Eel. 3*
Formofam refonare doces Amarillida filvas» iF7rg-. EcL i«
See alfo the fimile of the nightingale, Geor. lib. 4. verf, 5ii«
And fee that wonderful couplet deicribing the wailtngs of the
owl, wSneid* IV, 462. •
J — A-- -^p^-r— T^— vibratus al> aethere fulgor
Cum ibnitu venit, et ruere omnia vifa repente,
Tyrrhcnufque tubae mugire per aethera clangor 2
gufpiciunt \ iterum atque iterum fragor intonat ingeni .
See alfo the florm in the fird book of the Eneid, and in the fifth
of the Odyfley ; and thp ftanza already quoted from Taflb*
H The hoarfc rough vcrfe ihould like the toncntroar. Fop$^
On
AND MUSIC; ittSs
tioni that' are, Slow in confequence of dignity f,
—Slow in confequence of difficulty •,s^Swifc and
lioify J, — Swift and fmooth ||>— Uneven and ab-
rupt 4-, — Quick and joyous %. An. wnexpeftcd
paofe
■ ■ On a fttddtfn dpen dy>'
With impetaoas recoil and jarring found*
Th* infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Hai-fh thunder, Pur. Lofi^ II. 879*
See alio Homer's Iliad, lib. 3. verf. 363. and Clarke's anno«
tation.
f See an exqcufite exapiple in Gray's Progrefi of Poeljr |
the conduiion of the third ftanza*
Slow melting ftrains their i|aeen*8 approach declare* ftc«
* And when up ten fteep flopes you've drag'd your thighs,
Jufl brought out this* when fcarce his tongue could ftir.
■■■■The huge leviathan*
Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait,
. Tempeft the ocean. Fwr^ Lojt^ VII* 44 f. .
See the famous defcription of Sifyphus rolling the done, Ody/T,
]ib. II. verf. 592. See QuintiL Inft. Orat, lib. 9. cap, 4*
§ 4. compared with Paradife Loft, book 2. verf, 1022.
X Q^^Ax^^6axiV^ putrem fonitu quatit ungula campum.
Avrap fvi^TA vtlw^i Jlev^llrj)rro >«*( wai)^* . ^^jff^ I !•
See alfo Virg, ^neid. lib, 1. \^xU 83. — 87.
II See wild as the winds o'er the defart he flies, P^pi^.
lUe volar, fimul arva fuga, £mul sequora verrens. Virg.
Pm^»*} T nfwtok VfiXft, ^(pC^iTfk wif iSaa, hefiod.,
\ IIoAAa y mwrtou Karcaru mctfaila ri ^op^fUA r i8X9«9. £laM»
The lafs (hriek'd, ftarted up* and ihriek*d again. J/t^it.
§ Let the merry bells ring round*
And the jocund rebecks foundj
To
2Z6 ONPOETRY
paufe in the verfe may alfo imitate a fudden fai-
lulreof ftrength B, or interruption of motion 4^ or
vivacity to an image or thought, by fixing our
attention longer than ufual upon the word that
precedes it f.— Moreover, when we dcfcribe great;
bulk, it is natural for us to articulate flowly even
in common difcourfe 5 and therefore a line of poe-
try that requires a (low pronunciation, or feema
longer than it fhould be, may be ufed with good
To many a yoatb, and many a maid.
Dancing in the cheqaer'd (hade. Milton^s AlUgr^.
Sec alfo Gray*s Progrcfs of Pocfy, Stanza 3.
II Ac velut in fomnis oculos ubi languida prefiit
Node quies, nequicquam avidos extendere curfus
Velle videmur : — et in mediis conatibus aegri
Succidimus,— jEneid* 12.
See alfo Virg. Geopg. lib. 3. verf. 515, 516*
4. For this, be fure to-night thoa (halt have cramps,
Side-iliches that (hall pen thy breath up. Urchins
Shall exercife upon thee — — —
Profpero to Calyban in the Tempeft.
See Pope's Iliad, XIIL 199,
-How ofcen from the deep
Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard
Celeflial voices, to the midnight air.
Sole, — or refponfive to each other's note.
Singing their great Creator ?—— ^ Far. Loft^ t, 4^
And over them triamphant Death hig dart
Shook, but delayM to ftrike. Id. i. 1 1,
See alfo Hom< Ody(n lib. 9. verf. 290.
A N D M U S I C. 287
eSe£t in defcribing vaftnefs of fizc J.— Sweet
and fmooth. numbers are moft proper, when the
poet paints agreeable objefts, or gentle energy^;
and harflier founds when he fpeaks of what is ug-
Ijr, violent, or difagreeable f • This too is accor-
ding to the nature of common language ^ for we
generally employ har(her tones of voice to exprefs
what we diflike, and more melodious notes to de-
fcribe the objeds of love, complacency, or ad«
miration. Harlh numbers however fhould not
X Thas ftretch*d out, huge in length, the arch fiend lay.
Far. Lofi.
MonHrum horrendum, informe, iogens, cui lumen ademp«
turn. Virg. JSn$ii. 3,
Et magnos membrorum artas» magna ofla, lacertofque
ExuiCy atque ingens media cooiifiit arena*
^neid, 5. *otr/. 422;
* Hie gelidi fontes, hie moUia prata, Lycorx>
Hie nemus, hie ipfo tecum confumerer svo.
Virg. Eel, 10*.
The dumb fhall iing, the lame his crutch forego.
And leap, exulting like the bounding roe. Pcfe*sMeJpaJ^.
See Milton's defcription of the evening. Par, Loft, book 4.
▼erf, 598. — 609.
Ye gentle gales, beneath my body blow,
And foftly lay me on the waves below. Pepis Safpt^*
-|* Stridenti ftipula miferum difperdere carmen.77r^. £r/. ^
Immo ego Sardois videar tibi amarior hetbis,
Horridior rufco, projedla vilius alga. ^irg. EcL 7«
Neu patriae valida» in viicera vertite vires.
Virg. JEmid. 6.
Set alfo Milton's defcription of the Lazar-houfe in Paradife
Loft, book II. verf. 477.— -492^
be
ft68 b N I^ O E f R Y
be frequent in poetry* For.in this art, as in ttiji^
iic» concord and melody ought always to predo^
iQiinate, And we find in fadt, .that good poets
caA exprefs themfelves fomewhat harfhly, when
the fubjefi: requires it, and yet preferve the ma--
jefty of poetical di£tion# — ^Further, the voice of
complaint, pity, love, and all the gentler afiec-*
tions is mild and mufical, and fhould therefore be
imitated in mufical numbers ; while defpair, de«
fiance, revenge, and turbulent emotions in gene*-
ral, afiume an abrupt and fonorous cadence. Dig-
nity of defcription J, folemn vows *, and all fen-
timents that proceed from a fnind elevated with
great ideas f, require a correfpondent pomp erf
language and verfification, — Laftly: An irregu-
lar or uncommon movement in the verfe may
fometimes be of ufe, to make the reader conceive
' an image in a particular manner. Virgil de-
fcribing horfes running over rocky heights at full
fpeed, begins the line with two dadlyls, to imi-
tate rapidity, and concludes it with eight long
X See Virg. Georg. I. 328, and Homer, Virgil, and Mil-
ton, faj^ms Sec alio Drydcn*s Alcxaflder's Feaft, and Gra/s
Odes.
# Sec Virg. iEncid. IV. 24.
t Examples are frequent in the great authors* See OtheDo's
cxdamation :
— — — O now for ever
t'arewell the tranqail mind ! &c, Ja i^fctrn 3.
fyUables}
A K D MUSI C;
Syllables * ; which is a very unufual mcafure, but
fetifis well ^apted to the thing ettprefled, namc^
]y, to the defcent of the animal from the hills to
the low ground. At any rate, thi^ extfaordinalf'
change of the rhythm, may be allowed to bear
ibme refemblance to the animal's change of mo-
tion, as it would be felt by a rider, and as wtt
may fuppofe it is felt by the animal itfelf.
Other forms of imitative harmony, and manf
other examples, befides thofe referred to in tho
margin, will readily occur to all who are con^
verfant in the writings of the bcft vdrfificrs, par-
ticularly Homer, Virgil, Milton^ Lucretius, Spea-
fer, Dryden^ Shakefpeare, Pope, and Gray.
I muft not conclude without remarking, in juf-
tice to the Greek and Latin poets, that, from
our ignorance of the ancient prohunciaition, we
are but incompetently flcillcd in their numbers^
and that there may be, and probably are, in Ho«
mer and Virgil, many imitative harcnpnies where-
of we are not fenlible at all. The quantity of
Greek and Latin fyllables we know well enough \
biK it is a notorious faft, that in cafes innume-
rable our pronunciatiori of them is contrary to
what we know to be right. Thus, in reading
the following line of Horace,
* Sflx^. p<tr, ct fcopotos, ct deptcflas conv&lles, GhK Ml*
276. Milton fccms to have imitated thia movement, whtn ht
fa>'S,
■-Eternal wratli
Bjrnt after them to the bottomJefs pit.
See above. Part i. chap, 6. k€t. r,
U Aut
ajo O N P O E T R Y
Aut prodefle volunt aut dele£buie poetae^
we pronounce the firft fyllabk of volimt long, and
the laft (hort; and yet we know» that the fir ft is
fhorty and die laft tong. All regular hexameters
begin with a long fyllablei yet how often da
the beft readers introduce tli^m with a ftiorc
one I
When we read this line, by which Virgil meant
both to defcribe and to imitate flow motion,
£t fola in ficca (ccum fpatiatur arena *,
we make only five or fix of the fyllables long ;
and yet in this line there are no fewer than ten
long fyllables. Muift it not then to a Roman
ear have appeared more imitacive, than it does to
ours?
In each of thofe admirable hexameters, fi> dc-
icriptive of great fize,
£t magnos membrorum artus, magna oila, laoertofque.
Monftrum horremiuin, inforxne, ingens, cui lumen
ademptum.
there are eleven long fyllables according to the an-
cient pronunciation, and only fix or feven accor-
ding to the modern. If, then, there be any na«
tural fuitablenefs in the Qow rhythm of thefe lines
(and Virgil certainly thought there was), muft
not that have been more obfervable anciently thaa
it is now?
♦ Ccorg. 1. jgp.
In
A fJ D M tJ S i Ci
i$t
Iri thifc Engliih tongue, the foot Spondeus, con^
Clfting of two long fyllablcsi is'^ttot frequent j
there being generally one fliort fyllable, or more,
^or each long iyllable. And as our accented or
emphatic fyllables are all long, and a^ we give
emphafis to the Greek and Latin fyllables in the
fame way almoft as to our own, we feldom pre-
ferve in our pronunciation the rhythm! of the an^
cicnt poetry, and are (I think) moft apt to Ibfe it
iii thofc verfes that abound in the Spondcus.
The Daftyl, of one long and two fliort fyllables,
is very common in Englifli; and it fometirhes
happens, though not often, that in pronouncing
an hexameter of Da6^yls we do prefefve the true
rhythm tolerably well. Of fuch an hexameter 1
take the rhythm to be the fame with the follow*
iiig:
Multitudes rulhM all at once on the ^lain with a
thundering uproar*
And according to this rhythm, rtearly, we do in
faft pronounce the laft line of Homer's celebrat*
ed dcfcription of Sifyphus, and the two other.
Greek lines quoted in the margin*. But this
line of Virgil, whofe meafure and motion arc
• A»we 1
^l(T« «|
^ot)l«»
ki>tir«
Xeuif av
n^XKahii
avrtt HAT
»»T« ir»(
arrj, Ti
^X^i*
t^VHt fiaX*
V^t ««!
tf^kh
««f^fv
nh^t
MttltitDdei
rofli'd all at
<mceonthc
plain with a
thundering
Qaadrope
dahte pu
- s -
trem foni
a quatit
ungula
•i^urr Odyf. xi. 59f .
T'«X^<)r.Jliad,»rui, tl5rf
Cfv&ar, Id, V. 123,
uproar,
campum. /En. viif. ^^
U
ex&Qlf
t^ p N P O E T R y
exa£Uy tl^ fame, the modern& pronounce difScw
rently, at leaft in the firft three feet :
Quadrupedante putrem (bnku quatit ungula campum..
Of thi$ other line of Virgil, dcfcribing loud found,
Sufpiciunt; iterum atque iterum fragor intonat ingens,
the rhythm is ftill the fame, after making the ne-
ceffary elifions^ and if the reader pronounce it fo,
his ear will perhaps inform him, that it is more
imitative than he at firft imagined^
In the beginning of the Eneid, Eolus^ at Ju*
no's defire, fends out his winds to deftroy the
Trojan fleet. Neptune rebukes them for invad-
ing his dominions without his leave ; and is juft
going to denounce, a threatening, or inflid a pu»
nifliment, when he recolleds, that it was proper
to calm his waters, before he did any thing elfet
Quos ego— fed motos praeftat coiaponere flkidus.
The interrupted threat is a d!adyl; the remainder
of the line goes off in fpondces. By this tfan-
fition from a quick to a flow rhythm, is it not
probable, that the poet intended to imitate the
<:hange of Neptune's purpofe? But this is loft in-
cur pronunciation, though, in the ancient I be-
Keve it muft have been obfervable. One in-
ftance more, and I quit the fubje6|.
When Dido, that fatal morning'on which (he
put a period to her life, faw that Enea« and his
& Tcoj^
V A N.D MUSIC «9}
Tri^aiw were a&ually gone, flic at firft broke
forth imo frantic denunciations of itvenge and
luiBj but fooa checks herfclf, as if exhaufied by
lier paflion, when Jhe rcflefts, that her ravings
mere aH in vain. " Unhappy Dido 1 (fays Ihe)
thy evil deftiny is now come upon thee *•" This
change of her mind from tempeft to a momen-
tary calm (for (he immediately rclapfes into ven-
geance and diftraftion) is finely imitated in the
poet's numbers. The words I have tranflated
form a line of Spondees, whofe flow and foft
motion is a ftriking contraft t6 the abrupt and
fonorous rapidity of the preceding and following
verfes. This beauty, too, is in a great meafurc
loft in our pronunciation*, for we give only five
or fix long fyllables to a line which really contains
eleven, Are thefe remarks too refined ? Thofe
readers will hardly think fo, who have ftudied
Virgil's verfification ; which is artful and appo-
fite to a degree that was never equalled or attempt-
ed by any other poet.
In the courfe of thefe obfervations on the foupd
of Poetical Language, I am not confcious of hav-
ing affirmed any thing which docs not admit of
proof. Some of the proofs, however, I was obli-
ged to leave out; as they would have led me into
* Infelix Dido! nunc te fata impia tangunt. ^jieid, iv. 596.
If we read /a^a impia^ with the Medicean Manufcript,
the Rhythm is the fame, and the fenfe not materially different :
** Unhappy Dido I now are the confecjtrences of thy brokea
{* ypws f ojne upon thee."
U 3 long
294 O N P O E T R Y, &c.
long difquifitioiis, relating rather to the pecu«
liarities of Latin and Engliih verfe, than to the
general charafters of the Poetic Art. Thefc
proofs may poflibly find a place hereafter in A
^reatife of Verfification and Englijb Profody^ which
I began fome years ago, but hf ve not yet finilhc^
THE E ^ a
AN
ESSAY
O N
LAUGHTER
AND
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION.
U4
AN
E S S A Y
O N
LAUGHTER
AND
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION.
Egp vero omni de refacetius puto pojfe ab homine non
inurbano^ quam de ipjis facetiisy difputari.
Cicero.
CHAP. I.
Jntrodu£fion. The Subjeif propofed. Opinions of
Pbilofophersy — I. Ariftotle. — II. Hobbes.-^-^llL
Hutcbefon.^Vf. Akenfide.
OF Man it is obferved by IJomcr, that he is
the tnofl: wretched, and, by Addifon and
others, that he is the mcrrieft animal, in
the whole creation : and both opinions are plau«
fible, and both perhaps maybe true. If, from the
jicutcnefs and delicacy of his |)erceptive powers^
from his remembrance of the paft, and bis antici-
pation of whaf is to come> from his reftlefs and
creative
tgS ON LAUGHTEH AND
creative fancy, and from the various fenfibUities
of his moral nature, Man be expofed to maay
evils, both imaginary and I'eal, from which the
Inxites are exempted, he does alfo from the iame
fources derive innumerable delights, that are far
beyond the reach of every other animal. That our
pre-eminence in pleafure fhouid thus, in fome de-
gree, be counterbaitanced by oui" pre-etf)inence in
pain, was neceflary to exercifc our virtue, and
wean our hearts from fublunary enjoyment ; an4
tha^ beings thus befet with a multitude of forrows
ihould be fupplied from fo many quarters with thf
means of comfbrt, is fuitable to that benign eco-
nomy which cfiaraftcrifcs every operation of n^r
ture. •
When a brute has gratified thofc few appetites
that minifter to the fupport of the fpecics, s^nd of
the individual, he may be faid to have attained the
fummit of happincfs, above which a thoufand
years of profperity could not raife him a fingle
ftep. But for Man, her favourite chiid. Nature
has made a more liberal provifion. He, if he
have only guarded againft the neceffitics of life,
and indulged the animal part of his conflitution,
has experiences but little of that felicity whereof
he is capable. To fay nothing at prcfent of his
moral and religious gratifications, is he not fur-
nifhcd with faculties that fit him for receiving
pkafure from almoft every part of the vifiblc uni-
verfe ? Even to thofe perfons, whofe powers of
obfcrvation are confined within a narrow circle,
the cxercife of the neceflary arts may open inex-
haultiblg
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 299
haaftible fources of amufement, to alleviate the
cares of a folitary and laborious life. Men of
inore enlarged underftanding, and more cultivated
tafte« are ftill more plentifully fupplied with the
means of innocent delight. For fuch, either from
acquired habit, or from innate propenfity, is the
ibul of man, that there is hardly any thing in art
or nature from which we may not derive gratifica-
tion. What is great, overpowers with pleafing
aftonilhment; what is little, may charm by its
nicety of proportion, or beauty of colour ; what
is diveriified, pleafes by fupplying novelties;
what is uniform, by leading us to refled on the
ikili difpilayed in the arrangement of its parts;
order and connexion gratify our fcnfc of propric-
jty ; and certain forms of irregularity and unfuii-
abknefs raife within us that agreeable emotion
whereof Laughter is the outward fign.
HisiBiLiTY, confidered as one of the characters
that diftinguiQi Man from the inferior animals,
and 2^s an inftrumenc of harmkfs, and even of
profitable recreation, to every age, condition, and
capacity, of human creatures, muft be allowed to
fee not unworthy of the philofopher's notice.
Whatever is peculiar to rational nature, muft be
^n objefSt of fome importance to a rational being ^
pd Milton has obferved, that
Smiles from rcafon flow.
To brutes denied :
Hyhatcver may be employed as a means of dif-
f ountenancing vice, folly, or falfehood, is an ob-
' ' Kt
|cp ON LAUGHTiiR AND j r
je£t of importance to a moral being; and Horace
has remarked, ,
Ridicuium acri
Fortitts €t melius magnas plefuttique fecat res*.
Let this apology fuffice at prefcnt for my choice
of a fubjeft. Even this apology might have been
fpared : for nothing is below the attention of ^
philofopher, which the Author of Nature has been
pleafed to eftablifh.
In tracing out jthe caufc of Laughter, I mean
rather to illuftrate than to confute the opinions of
thofe who have .already written on the fame fub^^
je6l. The inveftigatipn has been fcveral times atr
tempted; nor is the caufe unknownwYet, noti"
withftanding former difcovcries, the . following
Effay may perhaps be found to contain fomething
new ; to throw light on certain points of criticifm
that have .not been much attended to ; and even
to have fome merit (if 1 execute my purpofc) as a
familiar example of philofophical indudlion car»'
ried on with a ftrid regard to fad, and^ithout
any previous bias in favour of any theory^J^
To provoke Laughter, is not effcntial either to
Wit or to Humour. For though that unexpefted
difcovcry of refemblance between ideas fuppofed
diffimilar, which is called Wity and that comic
exhibition of fingular charatlers, fentiments, and
imagery, which is denominated Humaur^ do fre-
♦ — . — Ridicule fhall frequently prevail,
Aftd cui ihs knot when graver reafons fail. ' Francis*
c^uently
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 301
quently raife hughter^ they do not raifc it always.
Addifon's poem to Sir Godfrey Kncller, in which
^3£ Brkifli kings are likened to heathen gods» 19
cxquifitely witty> and yet not laughable. Pope's
£flay on Man abounds in ferious wk v and exam-
ples of ferious humour are not uncommon in
Fielding's HiftCry of Parfon Adams, and in Ad*
difon's Account of Str Roger de Cdycrlcy. Wit»
^hen the fubjeftls grave, and the allufion fublime,
raifes admiration inftead of laughter : and if the
comic Angularities of a good man appear in cir*
4tumftance$ of real diftrefe, the imitation of thofe
Angularities, in the Epic or Dramatic Comedy,
will form a fpeciesof humour, which, if icfhould
force a fmile, will draw forth a tear at the fame
time. An inquiry, therefore, into the diftinguifh-
ing charafters of Wit and Humour, has no neccf-
fary conneftjon with the prcfent fubjeft. I did,
however, once intend to have touched upon them,
in the conclufiAn of this Diicaurfc ; but Dr. Camp-
bell's mafterly ^fquifition concerning that matter,
in the £rft part of his Philojepky cf Rbetoricy
makes it improper for me to attempt it. I was
favoured' with a perufal of that work in manu-
fcript, when I had finiflicd the three firft chapters
of thi$ Eflay for the prcfs-, and was agreeably
furprifcd to find my notions, in regard to die
caufc or obj^ft of Laughter, fo fully warranted
by thofe of my very learned and ingenious friend,,
And it may not perhaps be imp'roper rp inform
the public, that nekher did he know of my having
undertaken this argument, nor* I of his having
difcuffcd
302 ON LAUGHTER AND
difcufled that fubje6t» till we came mutually to
exchange our papers, for the purpofe of knowings
one another's fentiments in regard to what we bad
written.
Some authors have treated of Ridicule, without
marking the diftinffcion between Ridiculous and
Ludicrous ideas. But I prefume the natural ordet
of proceeding in this Inquiry* is to begin with af^
certaining the nature of what is purely Ludicrous.
Things ludicrous and things ridiculous have this in
common, that both excite laughter; but the
former excite pure laughter, the latter excite
laughter mixed with difapprobation or contempt*.
My defign it, to aoalyfe and explain that quality
in things or ideas, which makes them provoke
fure Laughter^ and entitles them to the name of
Ludicrous or LaugbabU.
j ^When certain objefts, qualities, or ideas, occur
^^^ur fenfcs, memory, or imagination, we fmile
or laugh at them, and expeft that other men
fhould do the fame. To fmile on certain occa-
(ions, is not Icfs fuffural^ than to weep at the light
of diftrefs, or cry out when we feel pain.^
There are different kinds of Laughter. As a
boy, pafling by night through a church-yard,
fings or whittles in order to conceal his fear even
^rom himfelf J fo there arc men, who, by forcing
a fmile, endeavour fometimes to hide from others,
and from themielves too perhaps, their malevo^^
* Ridlcalnt proprie dicitor qoi In rebas tarpibas ridetcrr.
lcnc«
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 303
lence or envy. Such Uughcer is unnatural. The
ibund of it offends the ear ; the features diftorted
by it feem horrible to the eye. A mixture of hy-
pocrify, malice, and cruel joy, thus difplayed on
the countenance, is one of the moft hateful fights
in nature, and transforms the *^ human face di-
** vine** into the vifage of a fiend. Similar to
this is the fmile of a wicked perfon plealing him*
felf with the hope of accomplilhing his eyil pur«
pofes. Milton gives a ftriking pidlure of it^ in
that well-known paffage :
Heoeafed; for both TeemM highly pleafed, and D^ath
Grin*d horrible a ghaftly fmile, to hear
His famine Ihould be fill'd, and blefa'd hi« maw
Deftined to that good hour.
But enough of this. Laughter that makes man a
fiend or monfter, I have no inclination to analyfe.
My inquiries are confined to " that fpecies of it,
** which is at once natural and innocent.**
yOf this there are two forts. The laughter oc-
calioned by tickling or gladnefs is different from
that which arifes on reading the Tale of a Tub.
The former may be called Animat Laup;htcr : the
latter (if it were lawful to adopt a new word,
which has become very common of late) I (hould
term Sentmental.^^Smi\t% admit of fimilar divi-
fions. Not to mention the fcornful^ the envious^
the malevolent fmile, I would only remark, that
of the innocent and agreeable fmile there are two
forts. The_onc_procccdo6^^ the^ rifible emo-
tion, and has a tendency to break out into laugh*
tcr.
304 ON LAUGHTER AND
ten Tlie othcti. is the rffeft_ofLggodJh«mour,
complacency, and tender aflTedion. This laft fort
of fmile renders a countenance amiable in the
higheft degree. Homer afcribes it to Venus, in
an epithet*, which Dry den and Pope, after Wal-
ler, improperly tranflace laugbter-Umng j an idea
that accords better with the charader of a ronip
or hoyden, than with the goddefs of love and
beauty.
Animal laughter admits of various degrees ;
from the gentle impulfe excited in a child by mo-
derate joy, to that terrifying, and even mortal
convulfion, which has been known to accompany
an qnexpcdcd change of fortune. This paflion
may, as well as joy and forrow, be communicated
by fympathy f -, and I know not, whether the en-
tertainment we receive from the playful tricks of
kittens, and other young animals, may not in pare
be refolvcd into fomething like a fellow-feeling of
their vivacity. Animal ^nd Sentimental laughter
are frequently blended ; but it is eafy to diftin*
guifli them. The former is often cxcefllve ; the
latter never, unlefs heightened by the other. The
latter is always plcafing, both in icfclf and in its
caufe •, the former may be painful in both. But
their principal difference is this : — the one always
proceeiis from a fentirricnt or emotion, excited ia
the mind, in confequence of certain objcds or
ideas being prefentcd to it, of which emotion we
may be confcious even when we fupprefs laugh-
• <I>*^3fA/At;^j9f, f Hor. Ar. Poet. verf. loi,
tcri
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 305
ter ; the other arifes, not from any fentiment, or
perception of Judicrous ideas, but from fome bo-
dily feeling, or fadden impulfe, on what is called
the animal fpirits, proceeding, or feeming to pro-
ceed, from the operation of caufes purely mate-
rial. The prefent inquiry regards that fpccies
that is here diftinguiflied by the name of Senti-
fnentd Laughter.
The pleafing emotion *, arifing from the view
of ludicrous ideas, is known to every one by ex-
perience, but,, being a fimple feeling, admits not
of definition. It is to be diftinguifhed from the
laughter that attends it, as forrow is to be diftin-
guiflied from tears ; for it is often felt in a high
degree by thofe who are remarkable for gravity
of countenance. Swift feldom laughed ; notwiih-
ilanding his uncommon talents in wit and hu-
mour, and the extraordinary delight he fcems to
have had in furveying the ridiculous fide of
things. Why this agreeable emotion fhould be
accompanied with laughter as its outward fign, or
forrow exprefs itfelf by tears, or fear by trem-
bling and palenefs, I cannot ultimately explain,
otherwife than by faying, that fuch is the appoint-
ment of the Author of Nature. All 1 mean by
this inquiry is, to determine, What is peculi-
ar TO THOSE THINGS WHICH PROVOKE LAUGH-
TER 5 OR^ RATHER, WHICH RAISE m THE MIND
•'This emotion I fometimes call the Rifible Emotion^ and
fomecimes the Ludicrous Sentiment i terms that may be fufii*
ciently intelligible^ though perhaps they are not according to^
^ilriiSt analogy.
X THAT
3o6 ON LAUGHTER AND
THAT PLEASING SENTIMENT OR EMOTION WHERE-
OF Laughter is the external sign.
I. Philofophers have differed in their opinions
concerning this matter. Ariftotle, in the fifth
chapter of his Poetics, obferves of Comedy, that
** it imitates thofe vices or meannefTes only which
" partake of the ridiculous: — now the Ridicu-
*' lous (fays he) confifts in fome fault or turpi-
*' tude not attended with great pain, and not de-
*' flruflive." It is clear, that Ariftotle here means
to charaflerife not laughable qualities in general,
(as fome have thought), but the objects of Comic
Ridicule only ; and in this view the definition is
juft, however it may have been overlooked or dc-
fpifed by Comic writers. Crimes and misfortunes
are often in modern plays, and were fometimes in
the ancient, held up as objefts of public merri-
ment -, but if poets had that reverence for nature
which they ought to have, they would not fhock
the common fenfe of mankind by fo abfurd a re-
prefcntation. I wilh our writers of comedy and
romance would in this refpedl, imitate the delicacy
of iheir anceftors, the honefl and brave favages of
old Germany, of whom the hiftorian fays, " Nemo
** vicia ridet ; nee corrumpere et corrumpi fecu-
« lum vocatur*.'' The definition from Ariftotle
docs not, however, fuit the general nature of lu-
dicrous ideas •, for it will appear by and by, that
men laugh at that in which there is neither fault
nor turpitude of any kind.
* Tacitus, de moribus Germanorum, cap, 19,
II. Th9
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 30^
11. The theory of Mr. Hobbes would hardly
have defervcd notice, if Addifon had not fpokca
of it with approbation in the forty-fevcnth paper
of the SpHator. " The pafllon of laughter (fays
•* Mr, Hobbes) is nothing elfe, but fudden glory
** arifing from fomc fudden conception of fome
** eminency in ourfelves by comparifon with the
** infirmity of others, or with our own formerly.'
*' For men (continues he) laugh at the follies of
*' themfelves pad, when they come fuddenly to
•' remembrance, except they bring with them any
** prefent dilhonour." Addifon juftly obfervcs,
after quoting thefe words, that ** according to
** this account, when we hear a man laugh exceC-
** lively, inftcad of faying, that he is very merry^
•* we ought to tell him, that he is very proud."
It is ftrange, that the elegant .author Ihould be
aware of this confequence, and yet admit the
theory ; for fo good a judge of human nature
could not be ignorant, that Laughter is not confi-
dered as a fign of pride -, perfons of Angular gra-
vity being often fufpefted of that vice, but great
laughers feldom or never. When we fee a maa
attentive to the innocent humours of a merry
company, and yet maintain a fixed folemnity of
countenance, is it natural for us to think, that he
is the humbled, and the only humble perfon, in
the circle ?
Another writer in the Speftator, N^ 249. re*
marks, in confirmation of this theory, that the
vaineft part of mankind are moft addidlcd to the
paflion of laughter. Now, how can this be, if
X 2 th«
3o8 ON LAUGHTER AND
the proudeji part of mankind are alfb moft addi<ft-
cd to it, unlefs we fuppofe vanity and pride to be
the fame thing ? But they are certainly different
paffionsr The proud man defpifes other men,
and derives his chief pleafure from the contenfi-
platlon of his own importance: the vain man
ftands in need of the applaufe of others, and can-
not be happy without it. Pride is apt to be re-
fcrved and fuUen ; vanity is often affable, and offi-
eioufly obliging. The proud man is fo confident
of his merit, and thinks it fo obvious to all the
world, that hfe -will fcarce give himfelf the trouble
to inform you of it : the vain man, to raife your
admiration, fcruples not to tell you, not only the
whole truth, but even a great deal more. In the
fame perfon thefe two paflions may, no doubt, be
united : but fome men are too proud to be vain,
and fome vain men are too confcious of their own-
weak nefs to be proud. Be all this, however, as
it will, we have not yet made any difcovery of the
caufe of laughter; -in regard to which, I appre-
hend that the vain are not more intemperate thai>
other people ; and I am fure that the proud are
kfs fo.
The inftances brought by Addifon, in favour of
this theory of Mr. Hobbes; of " great men for*
*' merly keeping in their retinue a perfon to laugh
" at, who was by profeflion a fool ; of Dutch-
" men being diverted with the fign of the gaper ^
<' of the mob entertaining themfelves with Jack
*' Puddings, whofe humour lies in committing
** blunders ; and of the amufement that fome
9 !* people
I^UDICROUS COMPOSITION. 309
*** people find in making as many April fools as
*^ poffible*:" thefe inftanccs, I fay, may prove
the truth of the diftich, quoted by our autlior
from Dennis, who t ran dates it from Boileau,
Thus one fool lolls his tongue out at another.
And fhakes his^mpty noddle at his brother.
—but I cannot fee how they (hould prove, that
laughter is owing to pride, or to a fenfe of our
fuperiority over the ludicrous objeft. Great men
^re as merry now when they do not keep profeffed
jefters, as they were formerly when they did.
The gaper may be 4 common Ggn at Amfterdam,
as the Saracen's head is in England, without be-
ing the (landing jeft of the country, or indeed any
jeft at all. The Jack Pudding is confidcred, even
by the mob, as more rogue than fool ; a^d they'
who attend the ftage of the itinerant phyfician, do
for the moft part regard both the mailer and the
fcrvant as perfons of extraordinary abilkies. And
as to the wag who amufes himfelf on the firft of
April with telling lies, he muft be fhallow indeed,
if he hope by fo doing to acquire any fuperiority
over another man, whom he knows to be wifer
and better than himfelf; for on thefe occafions,
the greatnefs of the joke, and the loudnefs of the
laugh, are, if I rightly remembea, in exaft pro-
portion to the fagacity of the perfon impofed on.
What our author, in the fame paper, fays of Butts
jba converfation, makes rather again/]t his .thcpry
♦ See Spcaator, N'* 47.
31^ ON LAUGHTER AND
than for it. No man, who ha5 any pretenfions to
good manners, to common underftanding, or even
to common humanity, will ever think of making
a butt of that perfon who has neither fenfe nor
^irit to defend himfelf. Sir John palftaff would
not have excelled io much in this charafter, if he
had not equally excelled in warding off and re-r
torting raillery. The truth is, the butt of the
company is generally kliown to he one of the wit-
tieft and beft-humoured perfons of it ; fo that the
mirth he may difFufe around him cannot be fup*
pofed to arife from his apparent inferiority.
If Laughter arofe from pride, and that pride
from arfudden conception of feme prefent eminen-
cy in ourfelves, compared with ojchers, or com-
pared with ourfelves as we were formerly •, ic
would follow, — that the wife, the beautiful, the
ftrong, the healthy, and the rich, muft giggle
away a great part of their lives, becaufe they
would every now and then become fuddenly fenfi-
blc of their fuperiority over the foolifh, the home-
ly, the feeble, the fickly, and the poor; — that
one would never recplleft the tranfaftions of one's
childhood, or the abfurdity of pne's dreams, with-
C5ut merriment; — that in the company of our
equals we fhould always be grave ; — and that Sir
Ifaac Newton mvift have b^en the greatcft vag of
his time.
That the pafiion of laughter, though not pro-
perly the effefl: of pride, does, howeyer, arife from
^ conception of fome fmall fault or turpitude, of
at lead from fome fancied inferiority, in the ludi-
7 cfou^
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. .311
crous objeft. has been aiferted by feveral writers.
One would indeed be apt at firft hearing to reply,
that we often fmile at a witty performance or paf-
fage, fuch as Butler's allufion to a boiled lob(ler»
in his pidture of the morning *, when we are fo
far from conceiving any inferiority or turpitude in
the author, that we greatly admire his genius^ and
wifli ourfelves poffeffed of that very turn of fancy
which produced the drollery in qucftion, " But
** as we may be betrayed into a momentary belief,
•' that Garrick is really Abel Drugger ; fo, it h
** faid, we may imagine a tranfient inferiority, ei*
*• ther real or aflumed, even in a perfon whom
** we admire ; and that, when we fmile at Butler's
** allufion, we for a moment conceive him to have
*« affumed the charafter of one who was incapably
«< to difccrn the impropriety of fuch an odd union
«* of images, — We fmile at the logic, wherewith
*' Hudibras endeavours to folace himfelf, when
5* he is fet in the docks.
As beards, the nearer that they tend
To th' earth, grow ftill more reverend ;
And cannons fhoot the higher pitches.
The lower you let down their breeches,
ril make this prefent abjeft ftate
Advance me to a greater height,
** Here, it is faid, that the laugh arifcs from our
*' fuppofing the author to aflume for a moment
• ' The fun had long iince in the lap
Of Thetis taken out his nap,
And, like a lobfter boil'd, the morn
From black to red began to turn.
X 4 « the
312 ON LAUGHTER AND
*^ the charafter of one who, from his ignorance o£
" the nature of things, and of the rules of anala-
«* gical reafoning, docs not perceive, that th^
«' cafe he argues /r^;» is totally unlike the cafe he
•' argues /^, nor, confequently, that the argu-
^* mcnt is a fo'phifm. — If we fmile at the afs, iri
^< the fable, fawning upon his mafter, in imita-
" tion of the fpaqiel ; or at the frog puffing and
" fwelling to flretch himfelf to the fize of the
^* ox, it is (we are told) becaufe we perceive fome-
*' thing defedive in the . paffions or fentiments of
f* thofe animals. And a refpedable friend, who
f* entertains us with a merry ftory, is faid to dq
«* fq, eicher by afluming a momentary inferiority,
" or by leading our thoughts to fome thing ia*
f' which we feem to difcern fome fmall fault or
*', turpitude." Ii> proof of this, it is further af-
firmed, ^* That we never fmile at /<?r/«//^//J coni-
** binations of ideas, qualities, or events, but at
f' thofe combinations only that feem to require
^* the agency of fome direfting mind : whence it
" is inferred, that where-ever the ludicrous qua-
f* lity appears, a certain mental charafter is fup-
f' pofed to exert itfclf j and that this character
f muft need? imply inferiority, becaufe, from our
" being fo often tempted to fmile by the tricks of
f^ buffoons and brute animals, it would feem tq
f< be' confjftieat iieither yi^ith fuperiority nor wjtl^
f< equality."
This theory is more fijbtle than fplid. . Let n^
)ook back to the analogical argument which But«
|er put^ in the mouth pf his hero, an^ which every
pfoo
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 313
perfon who has the feelings of a man muft allow
CO be laughable. Why is it fo ? Becaufe (fay
^hcy) it leads us to difcover fomc turpitude or de-
ficiency in the author's underftanding. Is this de*
ficicncy,^ then, in the hero Hudibras, or in Butler
the poet ? Is it real, or is it aflumed ? h mat-
ters not which ; for, though we knew that an idiot
Jiad accidentally written it, or that a wrong-headed
enthufiaft had ferioufly fpoken it, the rcafoning
would ftill be ludicrous. Is then a trifling argu-
ment from analogy a laughable objcft, whether
advanced ferioufly or in jeft ? If this be the cafe^
it muft be owned, that the fcntiments of mortal
men are ftrangely perverted in thefe latter times ^
for that many a volume of elaborate controverfy,
inftead of difpofing the gentle reader to flumber
by its darknefs and dullnefs, ought to have " fet
^* the table in a roar'* by its vain and fophifl;ical
analogies.
Further, I deny not, that all performances in
Vit ajnd humour are connefted with a mind, and
lead our thoughts to the performer as naturally as
any other effedt to its caufe. But do we not fome-
times laugh at fortuitous combinations, in which,
as no mental energy is concerned in producing
them, there cannot be either fault or turpitude ?
jCould not one imagine a fet of people jumbled to-
, jgether by accident, fo as to prefent a laughable
group to thofe who know their charafters ? If
pope and CoUcy Gibber had been fo fqueezed by
fL croud in the playhoufe, as to be compelled to fit
lyith their heads contiguous, and the arm of one
about
314 ON LAUGHTER AND
about the neck of the other, expreffing at the fame
time in their looks a mutualreludbance, I believe
the fight would have beep entertaining enough,
efpecially if believed to be accidental. — Our cof-
feehoufc-politicians were lately betrayed into a
fmile, by one Papirius Curfor, a wag who read
the news-papers quite acrofs the page, without
minding the fpace that didinguiflies the columns,
and fo pretended to light upon fome very amufing
combinations. Thefe were no doubt the contri-
vance of Papirius himfclf; but, fuppoGng them
to have been accidental, and that the printer had
without defign neglefted to feparate his columns,
1 aflc, whether they would have been lefs ridicu-
lous ? The joke I (hall allow to be as wretched as
you pleafe : but we arc not now talking of the de-
licacies of wit or humour (which will be touched
upon in the fequel), but of thofe combinations of
ideas that provoke laughter. And here let me
beg of the critic, not to take offence at the fami-
liarity of thefe examples. I fhall apologize for
them afterwards. Meantime he will be pleafcd to
confider, that my fubjeft is a familiar one, and
the phenomenon I would account for as frequent
among clowns and children as among philofa-
phcrs.
IIL Hutchefon has given another account of
the ludicrous quality. He feems to think, that
*^ it is the contrail or oppofition of dignity and
«' meannefs that occafions laughter.'* Granting
this to be true (and how far this is true will ap-
pear by and by), I would obferve, in the firfl:
place.
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 315
place, what the ingenious author feems to have
been aware of, that there may be a mixture of
meannefs and dignity, where there is nothing lu-
dicrous, A city, confidcrcd as a colleftion of low
and lofty houfes, is no laughable objeft. Nor
was that perfonage either ludicrous or ridiculouS|
"V^hom Pope fo juftly charafterifcs,
Thegreateft, wifeft, meaneft of mankind.
But, fecondly, cafes might be mentioned, of
laughter arifing from a group of ideas or objefts,
wherein there is no difcernible oppofition of mean-
nefs and dignity. We arc told of the dagger of
Hudibras, that
" It could fcrape trenchers, or chip bread,
Toaft cheefe or bacon, though it were
To bait a moufe-trap, 'twould not care }
'Twould make clean flioes, or in the earth
Set leeks and onions, and fo forth.
The humour of the paffage cannot arife from the
jneannefs of thefe offices compared with the digni-
ty of the dagger, nor from any oppofition of
meannefs and dignity in the offices themfelves,
they being all equally mean; and muft therefore
te owing to fome other peculiarity in the defcrip-
tion — We laugh, when a droll mimics the fo-
lemnity of a grave perfon ; here dignity and mean-
nefs are indeed united: but we laugh alfo (though
not fo heartily perhaps) when he mimics the pe-
culiarities of a fellow as infignificant as himfelf,
and difplays no oppofition of dignity and mean-
|iefs* — The levities of Sancho Panfa oppofed. to
the
Si6 ON LAUGHTER AND
the (blemnity of his mafter, and compared with his
own fchemcs of preferment, form an entertaining
contraft : but fome of the vagaries of that renown-
ed fquire are truly laughable, even when his pre-
ferment and his mafter arc out of the queftion.
"We do not perceive any contraft of meannefs and
dignity in IVliftrefs Quicl^lyf Sir Toby in Twelfth
Nighty the nurfe in Romeo and Juliet^ or Autoly-
cus in the fVinter^sTale ; yet they are all ludicrous
charadlcrs: Dr. Harrifon in Fielding's //w//^ is
never mean, but always refpeftable ; yet there is
adafti of humour in him, which often betrays the
reader into a fmilc. — Men laugh at puns; the
wifeft and wittieft of our fpecies have laughed at
them •, Queen Elizabeth, Cicero, and Shakefpeare,
laughed at them -, clowns and children laugh at
them ; and moft men, at one time or other, are
inclined to do the fame : but in this fort of low
wit, is it an oppofition of meanneTs and dignity
that entertains us ? Is it not rather a mixture of
famenefs and diverfity, famenefs in the found, and
diverfity in the fignification ?
IV. Akenfide, in the third book of his excel-
lent Poem, treats of Ridicule at confiderablc
length. He gives a detail of ridiculous charac-
ters; ignorant pretenders to learning, boaftfuj
foldiers and lying travellers, hypocritical church*
men, conceited politicians, old women that talk
of their charpis and virtue, ragged philofophers
who rail at riches, virtuofi intent upon trifles, ro-
mantic lovers, wits wantonly fatirical, fops that
out of vanity aifecfl to be difeafed and profligate^
daftard«
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 317
daftards who are afliamed or afraid without reafoa,
and fools who are ignorant of what they' ought tx>
know. Thefe charafters may no doubt be fet in
fuch a light as to move ^t once our laughter and
conUmp^ and are therefore truly ridiculous^ and fit
objects of comic fatire : but the author does not
diftinguifli between what is laughable in them, and
what is contemptible \ fo that we have no reafon to
think, that he meant to fpecify the qualities pecu-
liar to thofe things that provoke pure laughter.
Having finiftied the detail of characters, he makes
fome general remarks on the caufe of ridicule ;
and explains himfclf more fully in a profe defini-
tion illuftrated by examples. The definition, or
rather defcription, is in thefe words. " That
" which makes objefts ridiculous, is fome ground
« of admiration or etteem connefted with other
** more general circumftances comparatively
" worthlefs or deformed 5 or it is fome circum-
** ftance of turpitude or deformity connefted with
** what is in general excellent or beautiful : the
" inconfiftent properties exifting either in the ob-
" jefts themfclves, or in the apprehenfion of the
•* perfon to whom they relate 5 belonging always
«* to the fame order or clafs "bf being -, implying
« fentimcnt and defign ; and exciting no acute or
« vehement emotion of the heart." — Whatever
account we make of this definition, which to thofe
who acquiefce in the foregoing reafonings may
perhaps appear not quite fatisfadlory, there is in
the poem a paflagc that deferves particular notice,
as it fcems to contain a more exaft account of the
ludicrous
31 8 ON LAUGHTER AND
. ludicrous quality, than is to be found in any o:i^
the theories above mentioned. This paiTage wilJ
be quoted in the next .chapter.
CHAP. 11.
Laughter feems to arifefrom the view of things in-^
congruous united in the fame affemblage : I. By
Juxta'pq/ition\ l\. As Caufe and EffeSl r, III. By
Comparifon founded on Similitude ; or^ IV. Uni^
ted fo as to exhibit an opfojition of Meannefi and
Dignity.
HOWEVER imperfed thefe Theories may-
appear, there is none of them deftitute of
merit : and indeed the mod fanciful philofopher
feldom frames a theory, without confulting nature,
in fome of her more obvious appearances. Laugh-
ter very frequently arifes from dignity and mean-
nefs united in the fame objed; fomctimes, no
doubt, from the appearance of affumcd inferiori-
ty *, as well ^s of fmall faults and unimportant
turpitudes -, and fometimes, perhaps, though rare-
ly, from that fort of pride, which is defcribed in
thepaflage quoted from Mr. Hobbes by Addifon,
• Pope, Arbuthnot, and Swift, in fome of their raoft hu*
moroas pieces, afFume the charadler, and afFedt the ignofat^ce»
of Grubllreet writers; and from this circumftance part of (he
humour of fuch papers will perhaps be found to arife. ^' Valde.
** haec ridentur (fays Cicero) quae a prudentibus, quafi per difli-
*< mulationem non intelligendi^ fubabfarde falfcque dicuntut."
De Orat. II. 68.
AH
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 319
All thcfc accounts agree in this, that the caufe
of laughter is fomething compounded ; or feme-
thing that difpofes the mind to form a comparifon,
by paffing from one objedt or idea to another.
* That this is in fa£l: the cafe, cannot be proved a
priori ; but this holds in all the examples hitherto
given, and will be found to hold in all that arc
given hereafter. May it not then be laid down as
a principle, that " Laughter arifes from the view
** of two or more objects or ideas, difpofing the
*• mind to form a comparifon ?" According to
the theory of Hobbes, this comparifon would be
between the ludicrous objedt and ourfelves; ac-
cording to thofe writers who mifapply Ariftotle's
definition, it would feem to be between the ludi-
crous objeft and other things or perfons in gene-
ral; and if we incline to Hutchefon's theory,
which is the bcft of the three, we fhall think that
there is a comparifon of the parts of the ludicrous
objeft, firft with one another, and fccondly with
ideas or things extraneous.
Further : Every appearance that is made up of
parts, or that leads the mind of the beholder to
form a comparifon, is not ludicrous. The body
of a man or woman, of a horfe, a fiih, or a bird,
is not ludicrous, though it confifis of many parts ;
and it may be compared to many other things
without raUing laughter : but the pifture defcrib-
cd in the beginning of the Epiftle to the Pifoes,
with a man's head, a horfe*s neck, feathers of dif-
ferent birds, limbs of different beads, and the tail
.©f a fifh, would have bsen thought ludicrous
eighteen
320 ON LAUGHTER AND
eighteen hundred years ago, if we believe Horace^
and in certain circumftances would no doubt be fo
at this day. It would feem then, that " the par-ts
** of a laughable afferpblage muft be in fome dc-
** gree unfuitable and heterogeneous."
Moreover : Any one of the parts of the Hora-
tian monfter, a human head, a horfe's neck, the
tail of a fifh, or the plumage of a fowl, is not
ludicrous in itfelf ; nor would thofe feveral parts
be ludicrous, if attended to in fucceffion, withouc
any view to their union^ For to fee them difpofed
on different (helves of a mufeum, or even on the
fame Ihelf, no body would laugh, except perhaps
the thought of uniting them were to occur to his
fancy, or the paffage of Horace to his memory.
It feems to follow, " that the incongruous parts
" of a laughable idea or objcft muft either be
** combined fo as to form an affcmblage, or muft
«' be fuppofed to be fo combined/'
May we not then conclude, that •* Laughter
*• arifes from the view of two or more inconfift-
" cnt, unfuitable, or incongruous parts or circum-
** fiances, confidered as united in one complex
** objedt or aflemblage, or as acquiring a fort of
«' mutual relation from the peculiar manner in
*« which the mind takes notice of them?" • The
lines from Akenfide, formerly referred to, feem
to point at the fame dodrine :
Where-e'er the power of Ridicule difplays
Her quaint eyed viiagc, fime incongruous formy
Somejiubborn dtjfoname of things combined^
Strikes on the quick obferver.
And
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 321
And, to the fame purpofe, the learned and inge-
nious Dr. Gerard, in his EJfcrf on Tafte : " The
•* fenfe of Ridicule is gratified by an inconQftence
** and diffonance of circumftances in the fame ob-
•* jc6t, or in objcfts nearly related in the main $
•* or by a Cmilitude or relation unexpefted be-
•* tween things on the whole oppofite and un-
« like."
And therefore, inftead of faying with Hutehe*
fon, that the caufe or objeft of laughter is art
•' oppofition of dignity and meannefs;** I would
fay, in more general terms, that it is *' an oppo-
" fition of fuitablenefs and unfuitablenefs, or of
'* relation and the want of relation, united, oi*
*' fuppofed to be united, in the fame aflemblage "
. Thus the offices afcribed to the dagger of Hudi-
bras fcem quite heterogeneous; but we difcover a
bond of conneftion among them, when we are
told, that the fame weapon could perform them
all. Thus, even in that mimicry, which difplays
no oppofition of dignity and meannefs, we per-
ceive the aftions of one man joined to the features
and body of another ; that is, a mixture of un-
fuitablenefs, or want of relation, arifing from thq
difference of perfons, with congruity and fimili-
tude, arifing from the famenefs of the adions.
Thus, at firft view, the dawn of the morning,
and a boiled lobfter, feem utterly incongruous,
unlike, and (as Biondello fays of Pctruchio's ftir-
rups) " of no kindred * j" but when a change of
. * Taming of the Shrew.
Y colour
322 ON LAUGHTER AND
colour from black to red is fuggeftcd, we recog-
nize a likenefs, and confequcncly a rel.aiioQy or
ground of con^parifon.
And here let it be obferved, that the greater
the number of incongruities that are blended in
the fame affemblage, the more ludicrous it witt
probably be. If, as in the laft example, there be
an oppofition of dignity Ad meannefs, as wcU as
of likencfs and diflimilitude, the effeft of the con-
traft will be more powerful, than if only one of
thefe oppofitions had appeared in the ludicrous
idea. The fublimity of Don Quixofe^s mind con-
trafted and connefted with his miferable equipage,
forms a very comical exhibition^ but when all this
is further, qonneded and contrafted with Sancbo
Pan9a, the ridicule is; heightened exceedingly.
Had the knight of the lions been better mounted
and accoutred, he would not have made us finik
fo often-, becaufe, the hero's mind and circuwK
ftances being more adequately matched^ the whole
group would have united fewer inconfiftencies,
^nd reconciled fewer incongruities. No particu-
lar in this equipment is without its ufe. The 0(9
of Sancho and the horlc of his mafter-, the knight
tall and raw-boned, the fquire fat and Ihort •, the
* one brave, folemn, generous, learned, and cour-
teous-, the other not lefs remarkable for cowardice^
levity, fclfifhnefs, ignorance and ruilricity, the one
abfurdly enamoured of an ideal miftrefs, the other
ridiculoufly fond of his afs ^-^ the one devoted to
glory, the other enflaved to his bcUy t' — ir is not
eaJy, out of two perfons, to make up a more mul-
tifarious
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 323
tifarious contraft. Butler has however combined
a ftill greater variety of uncouth and jarring cir-
cumftances in Ralpho and Hudibras : but the pic-
ture, though more elaborate, is lefs natural. Yet
this argues no defeft of judgment. His defign
was, to make his hero not only ludicrous, but
contemptible ; and therefore he jumbles together^
in his equipage and pcrfon, a number of mean ind
difgufting qyalicics, pedantry, ignorance, nafti-
lipfs, and cxtrem? deformity. But the knight of
La Mancha, though a ludicrous, was never in-
tended for a contemptible perfonage. He often
moves our pity, he never forfeits our efteem ; aad
his adventures and fentiments are generally inte-
refting : which could not have been the cafe, if
his ftory had not been natural, and himfelf en-
dowed with great as well as good qualities. To
have given him fuch a (hapcj and fuch weapons,
arguments, boots, and breeches, as Butler has be-
ftowed on his champion, would have deftroyed
that folemnity, which is fo flriking a feature iii
Don Quixote : and Hudibras, with the manners
and perfbn of the Spatiifh hero, would not havd
be^n that paltry figure, which the Englifli poet
meant to hold up to the laughter and contempt of
his countrymen. — Sir Launcelot Greaves is of Doii
Quixote's kindred, but a different charafter.
Smollet's defign wafe, not to expofe him to ridi-
cule-, but rather to recommend him to oiir pity
md admiration. He has therefore given hint
youth, ftrength, and beauty, as well as courage^:
and dignity of mind, has mountied hini on a ge-
Y 2 nerouS
324 ON LAUGHTER. AND
nerbus fteed, and arrayed him in an elegant fuic
of armour. Yet, that the hiftory might have a
comic air, he has been careful to contraft and
conneft Sir Launcelot with a fquire and other
affociaces of very diffimilar tempers and circum*
fiances.
What has been faid of the caufc of laughter
does not amount to an exadt defcription, far lefs
to a logical definition : there being innumerable
combinations of congruity and inconfiftency, of
relation and contrariety, of likenefs and diffimili-
tude, which are not ludicrous at all. If we could
afcertain the peculiarities of thefe, we (hould be
able to charafterife with more accuracy the gene-
rat nature of ludicrous combination. But before
we proceed to this, it would be proper to evince,
that of the prefent theory thus much at lead is
true, that though every incongruous combination
is not ludicrous, every ludicrous combiitation is
incongruous.
It is only by a detail of fafls or examples, that
any theory of this fort can be either eftabliftied or
overthrown. By fuch a detail, the foregoing the-
ories have been, or may be, fhown to be ill-found-
ed, or not fufficiently comprehenfive. A fingle
inftance of a laughable objeft, which neither
unites, nor is fuppofed to unite incongruous ideas,
would likewife fhow the infufEcicncy of the pre-
fent : nor will I undertake to prove (for indeed I
cannot), that no fuch inftance can be given. ^ A
c;omplete enumeration of ludicrous objefts it would
be vain to attempt : and therefore we can never
hope
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 325
Iiope to afcertain, beyond the poflSbility of doubt,
that common quality which belongs to all ludi-
crous ideas that are, or have been, or may be
imagined. All that can be done in a cafe of this
Icind is to prove,, by a variety of examples, that
the theory now propofed is more comprehenfive,
and better founded, than any of the foregoing.
Many are the modes of combination by which
incongruous qualities may be prifented to the eye,
or to the fancy, fo as to provoke laughter : and
of incongruity itfelf, as of falfehood, the forms
may be diverfified without end. An exaSl ar-
rangement of ludicrous examples is therefore as
unattainable as a complete enumeration. Something,
however, of this fort we muft attempt, to avoid
running into confufion.
I. One of the fimpleft modes of combination
is that which arifes from Contiguity. Things in-
congruous are often laughable, when united as
parts of a fyftem, or fimply when placed together.
Thac dialogue of Erafmus, called Abjurda^ which
looks like a converfation between two deaf men,
feems to be an attempt to raife laughter, by the
mere juxta^pofition of unconneftcd fentences. But
the attempt is rather unfuccefsful j this fort of
crofs-purpofes being too obvious, and too little
furprifing, to yield entertainment.
I. Ariftotle, Cicero, and Quintilian, aU admit,
that bodily Angularities may be laughable*; and,
• Arift. Poet. § 5.; Cicero de Orat. ii. 239.; Quint. Inft,
Qr. vi. 3.
Y 3 accord.
326 ON LAUGHTER AND
according to the firft of thefe authors, that is ari-
(diculous couhtenanee, in which there is dif^rrnity
land diftortion without diftrefsi Any feature, par.
ticularly one of the middle features, a nofe, a
mouth, or a chin, uncomnwnly large, may, when
attended with no inconvenience, tempt one to
fmiles as appears from the effeft of caricatura ih
paindng. We read in the Speftator ♦, of a num-
ber of men with long chin^i whom a wag at Bath
invited to dine with him; and are told, that a
great deal of mirth paffed on the occafion. Here
was a collection of incongruities related not only
jby mutual fimilitude, but alfo by juxta-pofition \
a circumftance that would naturally heighten the
ludicrous effedl. Yet here was no mixture of dig*
nity and meannefs ; and the meeting, if it had
been accidental, would not have been lefs laugh-
able.
2. A country-dance of men and women, like
thofe exhibited by Hogarth in his Amlyfis of Beau*
tyy could hardly fail to make a beholder merry,
whether he believed their union to be the effeft of
defjgn, or of accident. Moft of thofe perfons
have incongruities of their own, in their fhape,
drefs^ or attitude, and all of them are incongru-^
pus in refpeft of one another; thus far the affera-
blage difplays contrariety or want of relation : and
they are all united in the fame place, and in the
fame dance •, and thus far they are mutually re-
lated. And if we fuppofe tlic two elegant figures
* Number 371.
rempved,
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 327
removed, which might be done without leflening
the ridicule, we ihould not eafily difcern any con<-
traft of dignity and meannefs in the group that re*
fnains.
3. Almoft the fame remarks might be madeoit
^be Enraged Mujtcian^ another piece of the fame
great mafter, of which a witty author quaintly
fays, that it deafens one to look at it. This ex-
traordinary group forms a very comical mixture of
incongruity and relation ; of incongruity, owing
to the diifimilar employments and appearances of
the feveral perfons, and to the variety and diflb-
nance of their refpeftive noifes ; and of relation,
owing to their being all united in the fame place,
and for the fame purpofe, of tormenting the poor
fiddler. From the various founds co-operating to
this one end, the piece becomes more laughable,
than if their meeting were conceived to be with-
out any particular deftination ; for the greater the
number of relations, as well as of contrarieties, •
that take place in any ludicrous aflemblage, the
more ludicrous it will generally appear. Yet
though this group comprehends not any mixture
of meannefs and dignity, it would, I think, be al-
lowed to be laughable to a certain degree, merely
from the juxta-pofition of the objeds, even though
it were fuppofed to be accidental.
Groups of this fort, if accurately defcribed^ are
no doubt entertaining, when exprefled in words,
as well as when prefented to the eye by means of
colour. But it would require many words to do
juftice to fo great a valrtety of things and perfons ;
Y 4 which
3^8 ON LAUGHTER AND
which therefore could not be apprehended by the
mind, but gradually and in fucceffion \ and hence
the jarring coincidencies of the whole would be
lefs difcernible in a poetical defcription, than in a
print or pifture. The ludicrous effe<5t, that arifes
from the mere contiguity of the objefts, may there--
fore be better exemplified by vifible affemblages
delineated by the painter, than by fach as are con-
veyed to the mind by verbal defcription *. Yet
even by this vehicle, burlefque combinations may
be fuggefted to the fancy, which in part derive
the ludicrous charafter from the juxta-pqfition of
the component parts. Take an example or two.
* But it does not follow^ that Painting is a more copious
fource of Rifible emotion, than thofe arts are which afFe^ the
mind by means of language. Painting is no doubt more lively
in defcri prion than Poetry : and, by prefenting a whole compo-*
ijtion to the eye at once, may Urike the mind with a more di-
veriified and more emphatical impulfe. What we fee, too, we
apprehend more eafily than v^hat we only conceive from narra*
tjon :
Segnius irritant anSmos demida per aurem,
Quam quas funt oculis fubjeda fidelibus, et quae
Ipfe fibi tradit fpedlatpr.
But the defcriptive powers of painting are fubjedl to many limi-
tations* It cannot mark the progrefs of adlion or thought, be-
caufe it exhibits the events of one inflant of time ; nor has it any
exprellion for inteile£lual notions, nor for thofe calmer aifedions
of the foul that produce no vifible change on the body. But
Poetry can dcfcribe every energy of mind, and phenomenon of
matter 5 and every variety, however minute^ of cbaradler, fen-
timent, and pafiion, as it appears in each period of its p^-ogrefs.
And innumerable combinations, both of fublime and of ludi-
crous ideas there are, which the pencil cannot trace our, but
^htcb are pafily coAveyed to the mind by fpccch or writing.
4. V M
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 529
^
4. *' If a man (fays the Tafler^ fpeaking of the
«* utility of advertifements) has pains in his head,
«* cholics in his bowels, or fpots in his cloaths, he
** may there meet with proper cures and remedies.
** If a man would recover a wife, or a horfe that
•^* is ftolen or ftrayed ; if he wants new fermons,
^' eledluarics, or afles milk, or any thing clfe, ei-
*' ther for his body or his mind, this is the place
*' to look for them in *."
5. He fung of Taffy Welch, and Sawney Scot,
Lillibullero, and the Irifh trot;
The bower of Rofamond, and Robin Hood,
And howthegrafs now grows where Troy town
ftood;
Then he was feiz*d with a religious qualm.
And on a fudden fung the hundredth pfalm t«
6. Incongruous ideas, related by contiguity, do
fometimes acquire a clofer connexion, when their
names being made equally dependent upon one
and the fame verb, confer on it two or more in-
congruous fignifications.
*' It is obfcrvable (fays Pope of Prince Eu-
" gene), that this general is a great taker of
" fnuff, as well as of towns J."
An
• Tatler, number 224.
f Gay's Paftorals. See Rape o/t hi Lock, ii, 105 — no*
t Key tOithe Lock. — In all wit of this fort, when laughter is
intended, it will perhaps be necefTary to blend greatnefs with
littlencfs, or to form fomc other glaring contraft. Ovid and
Cowley
330 ON LAUGHTER AND
An oppofition of dignity and m€annefs, or of
greatoefs and littlenefs, is no doubt oblervable in
thcfe examples. Yet defcription may fometimcs
be laughable, when the ideas or phrafes are related
by juxta-pofition only, and imply no perceptible
contraft of dignity and meannefs. Swift's Inven-
tory of. his houfehold-ftufF, " An oaken broken
*' cibow-chair, A caudle-cup without an ear,**
' &c. is laughable •, at leaft we are fure that he
thought it) fo : the various and dtjjimilar articles
fpecified in it are fimilar and uniform in this one
rcfpeft, that they are all worn out, imperfect, or
ufelefs; but their meannefs is without aiiy mix-
ture of dignity. Sancho's Proverbs often provoke
Cowley are fond of thefe conceits, but feldom raife a foiile by
tbeit), and Purely did not intend any.
Coniiliis non curribus Citere noHris.
Metamorfht lih^ »%
And not my chariot, bat my counfel take.
Bat now the early birds began to call
The morning forth : uprofe the fun and Saul.
"Davideiu-
^* A horfe (fays a flowery authcr) may ihrotv his rider, and
'' at once dafh his body againd the flones, and his foul into the
" other world."
Such witticifm in a ferious work is oiFenfive to a reader of
tafte (fee Kurd's Commentary on the Epiflle to Auguftus,
vcrf. 97.) ; — and we are not apt to laugh at that which offends
us. To the author it is probably the objeft of adn^iraiion, and
wc feldom laugh at what we greatly admire.
7 afmilej
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 331
a fmile 5 not becaufe fomc are low and others elc*-
vatcd^ but becaufe, though unconneSted both with
the fubjcft and with one another, they happen to
be fpoken at the fame time^ and abfurdly applied
to the fame purpofe. — I have heard that mirth
may be promoted amongft idle people by the fol-
lowing expedient. On the top of a page of paper,
one of the company writes a line, which he covers
with a book ; another adds a fecond, and conceals
it in tire fame manner; and thus the paper goes
from hand to hand, till it be full, no body know-
ing what the others have written : then the cover-
ing is taken off, and the whole read over, as if it
^l^rere a continued difcourfe. Here the principal
b6nd of union is juxta-poGtion; and yet, though
Uftited by this alone, and though accidentally
united, the incongruities may be laughable 1
though no dcmbt the joke would be heighjtcned, if
there ifhould alfo happen to be a mixture of mean-
nefs and dignity. And the fame thing will be
found to hold true of thofe mufical contrivances '
called medleys.
y. Even when art is not ufed to difunite them,
human thoughts under no reftraint are apt to be-
come ridiculoufly wild and incongruous. When
his mind unbends iffelf in a reverie, and, vHthouc
attending to any particular objedt, permits the
ideas to appear and glide away according to the
caprice of undircded fancy, thegraveft philofo-
phtr would be fhy of giving permanence to fuch a
jumble
331 ON LAUGHTER AND
jumble by fpeccb or writing • ; left by its odd in-
congruities it ftiould raife a laugh at his expence,
and fhow that his thoughts were not quite fo regu-
lar as he wilhed the world to believe. We need
not then wonder, that, when perfons of light
miods are made to think aloud upon the ftage,
their rhapfodies (hould prove fo entertaining, Ju-
liet's Nurfe^ and Mrs. ^ickly, are charafters of
this fort. And we meet with many fuch in real
life ; whofe ravings are laughable, ever\ when they
exhibit no mixture of meannefs and dignity, and
vrhcntntrejuxta-pq/tiion is the chief bond of union
among their ideas.
II. The mind naturally confidcrs as part of the
fame affemblage, and joins together in one view,
thofe objefts that appear in the relation of caufe
and effeS. Hence when things, in other refpefts
unrelated or incongruous^ are found or fuppofed to
be tbus related^ they fometimes provoke laugh-
ten
I. ** Really, Madam (fays Filch in the Beg-
** gar's Opera) ^ I fear I Ihall be cut off in the
** flower of my youth; fo that every now and
«* then, fince I was pumpt^ I have thoughts of
" taking up and going to fed^ It is the caufe of
this refolution that makes it ludicrous. One fort
of water fuggefts another to the thief's fancy ; and
the frefli-water pump puts him in mind of a finii-
lar implement belonging to Ihips. There is
♦ See the SpiSator, N** 225,
fom
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 333
fomething unexpefted, and incongruous in the
thought, and at the fame time an appearance of
natural connexion.
2. There is a fort of Ironical Rcafoning, not
eafily dcfcribed, which would feem to derive the
ludicrous charader from a furprifing mixture of
Plaufibility and Abfurdity: and which, on ac-
count of the real difagrecment, though feeming
affinity, of the conclufion confidered as the effe£l^
with the premiffes confidered as the caufe^ may
not improperly be referred to this head ; though
perhaps, from the real diffimilitude^ and unexpeft-
cd appearance of likencfs^ in the circumftances
whereon the argument is founded, it might with
equal propriety be referred to the following. Se-
veral humorous examples of this kind of fophiftry
may be fcen in that excellent Englifti ballad called
V^be tippling Philofopbers. Hudibras alfo abounds
in it. Such are the lines already quoted, in which
be draws comfort from the difafter of being fet in
the (locks ; and fuch are thofc well-known paf-
fages, that prove morality to be a crime, and Ho-
nour to lodge in that part of the human body
where it is moft liable to be wounded by a
kick *.
3. A caufe and effeft extremely inadequate to
each other form a ludicrous combination. We
fmile at the child (in Maries's Emblems) attempt-
ing to blow out the fun with a pair of bellows.
♦ Sec Hudibras, part a. canto 3. vcrf. 1065; and part 3.
canto !• verC 1290.
'2 Nor
334 ON LAUGHTER AND
Nor is it much lefs ridiculous to fee bero^f^ in ^
tragedy or opera, breathing their Jaft in a long-^
winded fimilitude, or mufical cadencCf The tailor
of Laputa, taking meafure for a fuit of clogths
with a quadrant ; the wife men of Lag^dQ carry^
ing vaft loads of tbinp about with them, that they
might converfe together without impairing their
lungs by the ufe of fpeech 5 and feveral of the
other projcfts recorded -in the fame admirable fa-
tire *, are ludicrous in the highefl: degree, from
the utter difproportion of the cffeft to the cayfe.
The fame remark may be made upon that part of
Sir John Enville's complaint, where he fays
(fpeaking of his lady), " She dictates to me in
*' my own bufincfs, fets me right in point of
»« trade; and, if I difagree with her about any of
•* my ihips at fea, wonders that I will difpute
** with her, when I know very well that her great-
" grandfather was a flag-officer f." Violent
anger occafioned by flight injury makes a man ri^
diculous; we defpife his levity, and laugk at his
abfurdity. All exceflive pa(fion, when it awakens
not fympathy, is apt to provoke laughter -, nor dp
we heartily (ympathife with any malevolent, nor
indeed with any violent emotions, till we know
their caufe, or have reafon to think them well
founded, "With fuch as we have no experience of^
we rarely lympathife; and the view of them in
othersj efpecially when immoderate, gives rife tp
^ Gulllver'i voyage to Laputst,
t Speftator, N^ 29;*
ftiWrii
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 335
nncmaicnt. The diftrcfs of the mifer when his
hoard is ftokn, and the tranfport wherewith he re-
ceives it badk, though the moft intenfe feelings of
^which he is capable, arc more apt to move our
laughter, than our forrow or joy ♦ : and in the
^ulularia of Flautus, a great deal of comic ridi^
cule is founded on this circumftance. Ranting in
tragedy is laughable, bccaufe we know the caufe
to be inadequate to the efFeft ; and becaufe a dif-
torted imitation of nature implies a contraft of
. likenefs and diflimilitude : but the oppofite fault
of infipidity, cither in adling or in writing, unlefs
accompanied with fomething peculiarly abfurd, is
not laughable ; becaufe it does not roufe the at-
tention, and has not that uncommonnefs^ which (as
will be ftiown hereafter) generally belongs to ludi-
crous combination. This difierence in the efFeds
of theatrical impropriety is hinted at by Horace:
Male fi mandata loqueris,
Aut dormitaho^ aut ridebo i".— —
Immoderate fear in another, when there feems ta
be no fufficient caufe for it, and when we our-
felves are at eafe; like that of Sir Hugh Evansy
when he is going to fight the French Doftor, is
highly ridiculous J both becaufe it is exceffive>
and becaufe it produces a conflift of difcordant
paflions, and an unconneded eSufion of words :^.
4. A»
• See Eflay on Poetry and Mufick, book i. ehap, 7.
f Ar. Poef. verf. 105.
X " Plcfs my foul! how full cf cholers I am^ afld tfempling
/' of mind I I ftiall be glad if he hare deceived me. HoW
** melan-
336 ON LAUGHTER AND
4. An emotion that ought to be important vent-
ing itfelf in frivolous language, or infipid behavi*
our, would no doubt make us fmile, if it did not
occafion difappointment, or feme other powerful
feeling fubverfive of laughter. When Blackmore,
in his Paraphrafcs of Holy Writ, Ihows, by the
meannefs of his words and figures, that, inftead
of having an adequate fenfe of the dignity of the
fubjeft, his mind was wandering after the mod
paltry conceits ; our laughter is prevented by our
indignation. Or if ever we are betrayed into a
fmile by fuch a couplet as the following.
On thee, O Jacob, I thy jealous God
Vaft heaps of heavy mifchief will unload*,
it muft be in fomc unguarded moment, when, our
difguft being lefs keen than it ought to be, the
ludicrous emotion is permitted to operate.
5. Every body knows, that hyperbole is a fourcc
of the fublime •, and it is equally true, that ampli-
fication is a fource of humour. But as that which
is intrinfically mean cannot be made great, fo nei-
ther can real excellence be rendered laughable, by
mere amplification. A coxcomb, by exaggerat-
ing the charms of a beautiful woman, may make
himfelf ridiculous, but will hardly make them fo.
** melancholies ! am ? I will knog his urinals about his knave's
*• coft'ard, when 1 have good opportunities for the orkc. P'efi
** my foul ! To fiallanjo rivers ^ to fwho/e falls Melodious birds
" fi^S, tnadrigals ; (finging) — To Jhallonv—Mtrcy on me ! I have
•' a great difpofition to cry. When as I fate in Fahilon^ &c.
Merry Wi<ves of Wind/or^ a£t 3. fcem I«
♦ Elackrr.ore*s Song of Mofcs.
But
»
LUDICkOUS COMPOSITION. 337
But a deformity of feature, that is ludicrous in a
low degree, may by exaggeration be made more
ludicrous: witnefs Falftaflfs account of Bardolph's
fiery-coloured face *. The following is a Grecian
conceit ; and fo highly valued by Strada, that he
takes the trouble to explain it in a paraphrafe.
In vain to wipe his nofe old Proclus tries {
That mars his moft expanfive grafp defies :
Sneezing he fays not, ^' Blefs me ;'' fo remote
His noftril from his ear, he hears it notf.
Strobilus, in the play, ridicules the mifer, by
faying, ** That he faved the parings of his nails,
** and ufed to exclaim, that he was undone when
** he faw the fmoke of his fire efcaping through
•« the chimney J." But the moft profligate wag
• Firft part of King Henry IV. aft 3. fcenc 3.
•|- This epigram appears to more advantage in the Greek* Oft
account of the great fimplicity of the expreffion.
Tm^ $»w« ya^ i^« t»ji' x»f» (Mft^ortfmu
Ovh XsyUf Ztv 0'uawy iw vletf^ i ya^^ wtov»
Tm ^<»o(y V9>iv yap rrf? eUaif Mnx^h*
Sec Strada. Pijlvr Su^mramu 4^^Long\nvL$ gives diia example
cf a Lndicrous hyperbole,
Astitmat-i^. Di SuiL fiB. 37.
" He was owner of a field not fo large as a Lacedemonian epi*
'* ftle $**-i!~which foretimes coniifled of no more than two or
three words. Vide Qaintil. Orat. Inft. lib. %. cap. 3. U 6.
Greek and Latin, we fee, may be ^uot^ on trifling as well at
important fnbjefls.
X Plain, Aaljol, aa 2. fcene 4.
Z that
/^ j8 ON DAUGHTER AND
th^ ever appeared in modtm comedy could not
^ «Mike the mofii or iot^Ue^tml viitue$ qf a good mad
cfdieiilousfnerely by magnify tngtbcoi; thcHigh,by
imfneprcfeiKiotg, or by conne&iag her wkh ludi-
croi|$ imagery^ he might no doubt raife a momoi-
tary fmile ac tise ^xpence even of Virtue berfeif.
Humorous Amplification will generally be
found to imply a mixture of plaufibility and ab-
furdity, or of likenefs and diifimilitude. Butler's
hero fpeaks in very hyperbolical terms of the
acute feelings occasioned by kicking and cud-
gelling;
Som^fti^e been heaten, ti)) they know
What VQod the cudgisrs of, by tbe blow i
Sooae kkk'dy until they can feei» whether
A ihoe be Spanifh or neat's leather *.
The {a&: is impoflible ; hence the want of relation
between the caufe and the pretende;d efFcd. Xct
when we confider, that the qualities of wood and
leather are perceived by fcnfe^ and that fame of
them may be perceived by the touch or feelingt
there appears fomething like plaufibility in what
IS fatd*; and hence the fetming relation between the
pretended efFeA and the caufe. And an addition-
al incongruity prefents itfelf, when we compare the
ferioirfnefs of the fpeaker with the abfurdity of
what is fpoken. When Smoller, in one of his no-
vels, dcfcribing violent fear, fays, " He flared
" like the gorgon's head, with his mouth wide
** open, and each particular hair crawling and
• Httdibras, part 2. canto i. verf. 22i._
- *^ tvvining
LtJDtCROUS idOMPQSltipN. ^^9
^ ' twbiag like u ammated £appenu'' lie raifes the
portrait far above nature } but at che fame timf
give^ it an apparent pl^ufijbilicyi from the eS^A
which fear is fuppoied to have in niaking^he bw
Aand on end. — It is, I confefs, an aiv^lcward thingi^
CO comEneat upon tbefe and the like paflage$ : an4
I am afraid, the reader tmy be tctnpced to fay (4
the Judicrous quj^ity in the ha^ds of one whp thu^
a^yfc9 it> that.
Like following life in creatures we iiOeSti
We lofe it in the moment we detefl;.
But J hope it will be conQdered, that I have tip
other way of explaining my fubjcd i/j a latjisfadQ*
17 manner. One cannot lay open the elemental/
parts of any animd or vegetable iyftem, withopc
violating its outward beauty.
As hyperboles are very comoKMi, beii^^fed bf
all perfons on almoft all occafiooi ^^ it ijoight l>e
fgppofed, that, by th^ frequency q( this figuue^
fflirth could ^afily be proc»oted in cpnverfatioQ,
and a charadtcr for humour acqwed, with little
€xpence of thought, and wijhout any ppwers of
genius. But that would be a miftake. Familkr
hyperboles excite neither laughter npr ^ftpnifti-
ment. All ludicrous and all fublime exaggeratioo*
IP charaAeriied by an uncon^monnefs of thpugbt
OC ^guage. And laughable appearances in gp*
nfv^j whether exhibited to the fenies or. to the
&mjf will /or the moft pvt b9 found ;o mply
^ See fiflsy ea Poetry, part 2. chap« f * ,U8u 9* f 5.
Z 2 foHfie^
340 ON LAUGHTER AND
fbmething uhexpefted, and to produce fome de«
gree of furprife.
III. Laughter often arifesfrom the difcovery of
unexpected likmefs between objeds apparently dif-
fimiUtr : and the greater the apparent difiimilitude,
and new-difcovered refemWance, the greater will
be the furprife attending the difcovery, the more
itriking the oppofition of contrariety and relation,
and the more lively the rifible emotion. All men,
and all children, have a tendency to mark refem-
blances; hence the allegories, fimiks, and metar*
phors, fo frequent in common difcourfe : but rea-
dily to find out fimilitudes that are not obvious,
and were never found out before, is no ordinary
talent. The perfon pofTefled of it is called a man
of wit ; efpecially if at the fame time he poflefs
that other talent of conveying his meaning in con*
cife, perfpicuous, and natural language. For I
agree with Locke, that *• Wit confifts chiefly in
^< the aflemblage of ideas, and putting thofe to-
" gether with quicknefs and variety wherein can
•« he found any refemblance or congruity, therc-
^ by to make up pleafant pidures and agreeable
*< vifions in the fancy * :** — And I alfo agr6e with
Pope, that " an eafy delivery, as well as perfefl;
•« conception i**— -and with Dryden, that ** pro-
<* priety of words as well as of thought," is ne-
celTary to the formation of true wit. Images and
comparifons, conveyed in obfcure terms, or m too
ipany words, have little effeA upon the miiid,
* Eflky oa Homaa Underftaadiogi book 2. chap. ii. § t.
becaufe
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 341
bccaufe they oblige us to take up time in collefb-^
in^ all iht parts of the idea ; which muft lefien
our furprife» and abate the vivacity of. the confe-
quent emotion: and if the language, inftead of
being natural, were quaint and elaborate, we.
ihould be difgufted, from an opinion, that the^
whole was the effeA of art, rather than the in*/
fiantaneous effort of a playful imagination.
It is a rule in ferious writing, that fimilitudes
ihould neither be too obvious, nor too remote.
If too obvious, they offend by their infignificancy,
give a mean opinion of the author's inventive
powers, and afford little variety, becaufe they fug-
geft that only which the reader fuppofes himfelf to
be already acquainted with. If too remote, they
diftrad the reader's attention ; and they {how,
that the author's fancy is wandering from his fub-
jed, and therefore that he himfelf is not fuitably
affe£bed with it ; — a fault which we blame in a
ferious writer, as well as in a public fpeaker or
playy. Familiar allufions, fuch as every body
may make every day, are to be avoided in humor-
ous compofition alfo ; not only becaufe they are
infignificant, yield no variety, and give a mean
idea of the author, Jbut Tifcewife becaufe they have
not incongruity ciiough to ^ ludicrous*: for
when
* Swift*s Song of Similes, My f^Jfii^n is as muftardftrong, &c.
will perhaps occur to the reader as an exception. And it is trae
of that humoroQs piece, (hkt m'cft of >t))e comparifbns are not
only coroinpn> but even proverbial. But theri there is, in the
w»y of applying them, a fpecies of novelty, that fhowi a lively
Z 3 and
i4t ON LAUGHTER ANO
when tve have beeil long accuftomed to torn*
^arc certain things together, or to view them a9
united in the fame aflemblage, the one fo con-
rtantljr introduces the other into the mind, that
we come to Wok opon them as congenial. But
ih ludicroui writing, compirifons, if the point of
rtfemblance be clearly exprefled, and the thing
alluded to fufficiently known, can fcarce be too
rcihote : for here the author is not fuppofed to
be in earneft, and therefore we alk)w full fcope
to hi9 fancy $ and 4iere the more renoote the com*
parifon, the more heterogeneous are the objeA$
compared, and the greater the contraft of con*,
gruity and unfuitablenefs.
^ferfbns who would pafs for wits are apt af-
§^&tAly to interlard their ordinary difcourfe with
firhilitqdcs j which, however, unlefs they are un*
^omniot), as well as appofitir, will only betray the
iftiaf rennefs of the fpcaker*s fancy. Fielding ridi-
idiflcs this fort of pedantry, in a dialogue between
^ bad poet and a player. *« Plays (fays the inan
and fipgqlar turn of fancy in ihh author, and occafion; an
^gtccabl* ftrprffc to the reader; and the mutual relation,
owing to the juxu-pofition^ of fo many di/Ibaant ideas and
fncengmious proverbs, heightens greatly the ludicroas ei!e£l«
Comnnon, or ev^n proverbial, allqfions may rvtccefsfully enough
|>e introduced into burlefque, when th^y furprife \>y the pecq«
liarity of their application. In this cafe, though familiar iq
themielves^ they j^re remote in regard to the fubjedl, and ap«
parently incengruous ; and may therefore raifb our opinion of
fhe author's wit : as a clock made with the tools of a black*
finitl} If ould evidence uncommon dexterity in the artifi.
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 34J
^ of rhime) arc like trcci, which will not grow
*' without nourifiiment; but, like ttiufhrooms,
^* they fhoot up fpontaneoufly, as it were in a
*^ rich foil. The iTiufes^ like vines, may be
^* pruned, but not with a hatchet. The town,
** like a peevilh child, knows not whit it defires,
•* and is always beft pleafcd with a rattle *,''
As fome comparifons add to the beauty and
fublimity of ferious compofition, fo others may
heighten the ludicrous eflE&ft of wit and humour.
In what rdpeda the former differ from the latter,
will be feen afterwards^ At prefent 1 (ball only
fpecify the feveral clafles of ludicrous fimiUtudes,
and give an example or two in each, with a view
to illuftrate my theory.
i« One axean objefb may be compared to ano-
ther mean objed in fuch a way as to provoke
laughter. In this cafe, as there is no oppollcion
of meannefs and dignity^ it will be proper, in or-
-der to make the combination fufficiently incon*
gruous, that the thing alluded to, if familiar in
itfelf, be remote in regard to the fubjcft, and
fuch as one would not be apt to think of, on
fuch an occafion.
" I do remember him (fays FalftafF, fpeaking
*^ of Juftice Shallow) at Clement's Inn, like a
♦* man made after fupper of a chccfe-paring,
♦* When he was naked, he was for all the world
♦ Sec Jofeph Andrew?, book 3. ^bap, 10. The whole
|)i4ogue iji exquifitely humorous.
Z 4 «« iike
344 ON LAUGHTER AND
^* like a forked radifh» with a head fantafticallf
" carved upon it with a knife f."
He fnatch'd his whinyard up, that fled
When he was falling off his fteed.
As rats do from a falling houfe |.
The reader will think, perhaps, that there is evea
in thefe examples fomething of greatnefs mixed
with meannefs, as well as in the following :
Inftead of trumpet and ot drum.
Which makes the warrior's ftomach come.
And wheu men's valour (harp, like beer.
By thunder turn'd to vinegar **
But that mixture is more obfervable, when,
2. Things important, ferious, or great, are lu*
dicroufly compared to fuch as are mean, frivolous,
or vulgar. King Arthur, in the tragedy of Tom
Thumb, hints at an analogy between two feelings,
that were never before thought to have any thing
in common.
I feel a fudden pain within my breail.
Nor know I whether it proceed from love.
Or only the wind-colic* Time muft (howt
" Wifdom (fays Swift) is a fox, who after long
«^ hunting, will at lall coft you the pains to dig
" out: it is a cheefc, which, by how much the
+ Second part of K. Henry IV* aft 3, t Hudibrai,
^ Hudibrast
*• richer^
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 345
^ richer, has the thicker, the homelier, and the
^ cparfer coat, and whereof, to a judicious palate^
«* the maggots are the beft : it is a fack-poflet,
•* wherein the deeper you go, you will find it
<^ the fweeter. Wifdom is a hen, whofe cackling
** we muft value and confider, becaufe it is at-
" tended with an egg. But then, laftly. Wit
*• dom is a nut, which, unlefs you chufe with
*« judgment, may coft you a tooth, and pay you
** with nothing but a worm f."
MuQc in general, efpecially military mufic, is
an objed of great dignity to the ferious poet ; he
defcribes it with fiiblime allufions, and in the
moft harmonious language. Butler, by a con-
trary artifice, makes one fpecies of it ridiculous.
The kettle-drum, whofe fullcn dub
Sounds — like the hooping of a tub*
3. Things in thcmfelves ludicrous and mean
may become more ludicrous, by being compared
to fuch as are ferious or great ; and that, firft,
when the ferious obje£l alluded to is mentioned
in fimple terms, without debafement or exaggei-
ration*; — fccondly, when it is purpofely de-
graded by vulgar language and mean circum-
ftancesj;— and, thirdly, when it is exhibited in
all the pomp of numbers and defcription§. Es^
;+ Introduaion to the Talc of a Tub.
^ See Hudibras, part i. can. i. verf. 289.
X See Httdibras, part a. can. 2* verf* 595.
i See Dundad^ book 2. ?erf« |8u
amples
54« ON LAUGHTER ANI>
amplcs of the tw6 firft cafes are common in hur-
le/que-, the third is peculiar to the mock-heroic
ftyle.
l^rom thefe remarks it will appear, that the ri-
fible emotion may in various ways be raifed or
increafed by comparifon and fimilitude. Meta-
phor, allegory, and the other tropes and figures
founded in refcmblance, may in like manner
heighten the efFeft of ludicrous compofition.
Without multiplying examples, I fball only
obferve, of the Allegory in particular, that, pror
vided its defign be important and obvious, a
great difproportion, in point of dignity, between
what it expreiTcs and what it fignifies, will not
convey any ludicrous idea to a found mind ; un*
lefs where an author is at pains to degrade his
allegory, either by the extreme meannefs of the
allufio6, or by connefting it with fomething
laOghable in the circumftances or phrafeology.
The fables and parables of ancient times, were
not intended to raife laughter, but to inftruft
mankind. Accordingly, tliofe Greek apologues,
which are afcribed to Efop, and bear undoubted
marks .of antiquity, are delivered in the moft
iimple ftyle, and without any effort to draw the
reader's attention to ludicrous ideas, except when
^hcfe make a part of the ftory *. But fome mo-
dern
* And when there is any ihipg hagbable ia the circum-
fiances, ic often appears to greater advantage in ibe £mple
Grecky than in the moft elaborate modern paraphrafe. Tbe
reader
LUIMCR0U3 COMPOSITION. 547
^cA fkburifts, particularly L^Ellrange, are arwciodt
tb have tlieir fables confidcrcd, not only as in-
itruftive allegories, but alfo a$ merry tales i and,
in order to make them luch, frequently employ
ludicrous images, and the mod familiar didtion.
"Whether this, or the anciertt, form of the apo-
logue, deferve the preference, I lliall not now in-
quire. But I could wi(h, that where the moral
was of great importance, and connedted with fa-
ffed things, we had, in our fables, imitated ra-
^r the fimplicity of antient language, than the
levity of modern wit. Ridfculous ideas, afTociat^
ed by cuftom, with religtous truths, can have nd
good efFcft upon the mind. And in this view,
the book called Scotch Prejh/terian eloquence dif-
flayedj muft ever be held in abhorrence by the
friends of religion, though the writer could be
vindicated from the charge of wilful and mali-
cious falfehood. And I cannot but think, that,
in this view, even the Tale of a Tub^ riOfwithftand-
}ng its unequalled merit as a piece of humorous
writing, is blameable in the general tenor of the
allegory, as well as in particular paffagcs. — Are
you then one of thofe gloomy mortals^ who think
feligion an enemy to jocularity ? By no means.
}{ I were, 1 fhould not now be writfng an Effay
re^er hiay toilipare AXtyVrji *J KopaJ with te Corhtau et U Ri*
$atd of Fontain*. The cdnclufion of the ft)rm^i' \i t>gtnark<«
ably ejipreffive and pidureiqoci as well a9 fimple : o' ^ «opfl|
on
34^ ON LAUGHTER AND
on Laughter. Chriftianity is, in my opinion^ not,
merely a friend to cheerfulnefs, but the only
thing m the world which can make a confide-
rate mind rationally and permanently cheerful.
But between fmiling and fneering, between com-
placency and contempt, between innocent mirth
and unfeafonable bufibonry, there feems to me to
be a very wide difference.
After what Addifon in the SpeSatoTj and Dry-
den in one of his long prefaces, have faid
againft Hudibraftic rhimes, one can hardly ven-
ture to affirm, that a fmile may fometimes be
occaGoned by thofe unexpefted coincidenctes of
found. I confefs, however, that I have been en-
tertained with them in Swift and Butler; and
ihould think him a prudifh critic who could
turn up his nofe at the following couplets :
And pulpit, drum ecclefiaftic
Wa» beat with fift, inftead of a ftick.-*—
With words far bitterer than wormwood.
That would in Job or Grizel ftir mo#d.
Though ftored with deletery medicines.
Which whofoever took is dead fince. ^
There was an ancient fage philofopher.
Who had read Alexander Rofs over.-*—
I giranti thai thefe combinations, confidered as
wit, have little or no merit. Yet they feem to
pofiefs in a certain degree the ludicrous charac-
ter, and to derive it from the diverfity of the
words and meaning as contrafted with the unex-
pefted Jimilarity of the founds. In ordinary
rhimes.
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 349
rhimes, the found, being expefted, gives no
furprife ; and, being common, feems natural, and
a thing of courfe : but when two or three words^
in the end of one line, correfpond in found to
two or three fyllables of the fame word, in the
end of another, the jarring coincidence is more
ftriking and fomewhat furprifing. But as they
furprife the more, the lefs they are expeded, and
the lefs they feem to be fought for, thefe rhimes
muft lofe their efied when too frequent And
* the fame thing muft happen, when they are in-
corred, on account of the imperfed refemblance,
and becaufe every body knows it is an eafy mat-
ter to bring words together that have fome lexers
only in common: and therefore one is rather
offended than entertained with the rhime of this
couplet of Prior :
Know then, when Phebus' rays infpeA us,
Firft, Sir, I read, and then I breakfaft.
Hudibraftic rhimes can take place only in bur*
lefque*; fuch trifling being unfuitable to all
ferious
* Hobbes, partly by a rhime of this kind, and pardy by a
miiapprehenfion of Homer's language, has tamed into graft
burlefqoe one of the moft admired defcriptioni^in all poetry :
^Hf 9^ kvanw9 iir ofpvcrh noo't Kfontn*
IHad. L 528*
TUs
$50 ON LAUGHTER AND
6xious poetiy» axul even t9 thr j^Sk&e/^ folemmtf
pf th^ i»ock-hcraic.
Some critics, taking all their notions from the
pra£tice of Greece and Rome, have reprefcntcd
rhime of every kind as . a ridiculous thing. But
that cannot be ridiculous, to which we are conti-
nually accuftomed ; which, independent on cuf-
tofn, t« in itfelf almoft uni¥erfa}ly pleafing ; and
which has acquired additional grace and dignity,
by being & much ufed as an ornament in our
moft beautiful comfK>fitions* Sin^arity of found
in contiguous verfes gives pleafure to all children
and illiterate perfons, and does not naturally of-
fend the ear of any modern European, however
learned. Nay» we have reaibn to think, that fbme-
<hing of this fort, in the «nd or beginning * of
word9>
This fai^iy wkh hh l>lac|c brown be to her n»4dtii^
Wherewith difplayed were his locks divine ;
Qiymp|98 ihook iit Itirnng of his godkead ;
Ajnd Thetis froin it jump'd into the hriae.
T<ie<ranflator fhows alfo his ignorance of the Engliih tongoe,
in the ufe he makes of the lad word of his third line.
f A iMnilarky of foand in the btgimning of contigoous ivords,
or f^duer in tbek initial confonantsy has of late been called n/ir-
ttrMtimu Some Mmdi^^ fpeak of it in terms of the utm<^ con-
tempt and abhorrence ; and as if none but fools and fops conid
take any pleafure in it. And furely when it recurs often, and
feems to be the efie£l of (ludy, it gives a finical appearance to
poetry, and becomes ofFeniiye. But that many good judges of
poetical harmony have been pleafed with it» might be made
4f>pear by innumerable examples from Lucrctias^.Spenfer^ Dry*
deny
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 351
words* has in all a^s been agreeable to all na«*
tions wbatfoever, the Greeks and Romans not ex-
cepted. For to what other ultimate principle^ than
the love of (imilar final founds, fhall we afcribe
the frequent coincidence, in termination, of the
Greek and Latin participle and adjeftive, with
the fubftantive? Homer himfclf often repeats
certain harmonious fyllables of (imilar found ^
which he might have avoided, and with which,
therefore, as he feems on fome occafions rather to
feek for than to ihun them, we may prefume
deOt and others* Indeed, pffeviooi to the influence of ^tani#
il would not < be eafy to determioe, whether a fimilaruy 9l
foaodj in the beginning, or in the end, of contiguous words^
were likely to produce the more racional, or more durable
entertainment. That both allireration and rhime, though iioc
c^uaUjr perhaps^ are however naturally, pieaiing to the eary ^
Durpeaple^ is evideatj not only from what may beobferved ia
children and peafants, but alfo from the compolition of many
of our old proverbs, in which (bme of the words feem to have
been chofen for the fake of the inicial letters » as, Many mtn
ittany Ainds» Spare to fpeak and fpare to fpeed, Motney oakeis
Ike mare to go, Love me little love me long. Manners mfkp
thejnan, iec^^^Cbrifi^s kirk on the gremt and mod of the old
Scotch ballads, abound in alliteration. And fome ancient
Engliih poems are more diftioguiflied by this, than by^ny
other poetical contrivance. In the works of Langland, even
where no regard is had to rhime, and but little to a rude fort
of Anapefiic Rhythm, it feems to have been a rule, that three
words at kaft of each line Ihould begin with the lame letter:
Death came driving after, and all. to duft pafhed
Kynges and Kaylars, Knightes and Popes.
that
S52 ON LAUGHTER AND
that he was plcafcd *. It is true, the Greeks
i^nd Romans did not admit, in their poetry, thole
fimilar endings of lines, which we call Rhimc*
The reafon probably was, that in the clailical
tongues, on account of their regular ftrufturc^
like terminations were fot frequent, that it re-
quired more dexterity, and occafioned a more
^leafing fufpenfe to the ear, to keep them fepa-
k'ate, than to bring them together. But in the
modern tongues the cafe is different; and there-
ifore rhime may in them, have a good efied,
though in Greek and Latia-^it muft have had a
bad one. Befides, one end of rhimes in modern
poetry, is to diftinguifh it more effcdtually from
profe: the Greeks and Romans diftinguifhed
theirs by the meafure, and by the compofition^
upon which the genius*^f their languages allowed
them to beftow innumerable graces, in refpeft of
arrangement, harmony, and variety, whereof the
bed modern tongues, from the irregularity of
their ftrudlure, particularly from their want of
inflexion, are but moderately fufceptible : * ^nd
therefore, of rhime, as a mark of diftindion,
• Virgil hat a few of the fame fort,
Cornua velataram obvertimus antenBarum. JEneid. III.
— — formae magnorum ululare luporuzD. JEn^id. VII..
I do not find, that the ancient critics have taken any notiCf of
this peculiarity. Their ofMioTEXti/ro^ Teems to have been a c6in«
cidence of found rather in the lad words of cootiguons daniest
than in the laft fyllables or tetters of contiguous words. See
Demet. Phaler. §281.; and RolIin*s QuintiliaD, lib. 9. cap*
/ 3 our
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. i$$
our poetry thay fometimes ftdnd in need, though
theirs did not. In fad we find, that Blank verfe^
except where the want of rhime is compenfated^
as it is in Milton, by the harmony and variety of
the conipofition, can never have a good efFedt in
our beroic poetry : of which any perfon may be
fatisfied, who looks into Trapp's VirgrI, or who,
by changing a word in each couplet, takes away
the rhime from any part of Pope's Homer. But
the ftrudure of the Miltonic numbers is fo finely
diverfified, and fo tranfcendently harmonious, that,
in the perufal of Paradife Loft, we have no more
reafon to regret the want of rhime, than, in
reading the Eflay on Mah, or Dryden's Fables,
to lament that they were not written in blank
verfc.
IV* Dignity and Meannefs united, or foppofed
to be united, in the fame aflemblage, form a co-
pious fource of ludicrous combination. Innume-
rable are the examples that might be given on
this head, but I fhall confine my remarks to a
few of the moft obvious.
I. Mean fentiments appearing unexpeAedly in
a ferious argument, fo as to form what is called
an anticl'mix, are often produAive of laughter.
Waller, in a magnificent encomium on the Sum-
mer Iflands, provokes a fmile inftead of admira-
tion, by a contraft of this kind.
With candied plantanes, and the juicy pine.
On choiceft melons and fweet grapes they dine.
And — with potatoes fat their wanton fwine.
A a 2. Mean
354 ON LAUGHTER AND .
2. Mean fentiments, or exprcffions, in the
mouth of thofe who affume airs of dignity, have
the fame effeft. Dogberry is a memorable in-
ftance, — " Bombard the fuburbs of Pera (fays a
«* mad ihocmaker who fancies himfelf the Km^
" of Pruffia, in one of Smollet's novels), make a
" defart of Lufatia ; tell my brother Henry to
" pafs the Elbe with fifty fquadrohs; fend hi-
" ther my chief engineer ; r II lay allthejhoes in
" myjhop^ the breach will be prafticable in foun-
" and-twenty hours.** Bi£ia faSis ix^^quanda^ 'rs
a maxim in hiftorical writing; and in conMnOn
life, it may be laid down as a rule to thofe who
wi(h to avoid the ridicule of others, that they
proportion their behaviour to their accompli&«
ments.
3. Mean or comtnon thoughts delivered in
pompous language, form a laughable incongrui^
.ty ; of which our mock tragedies, and too often
our ferious ones, afford many exampdes. Upon
this principle, the charadber of Piftol is ft ill ludi-
crous, though the race of coxcombs, of whom he
is the reprefentative, has been long extin&« Xhc
Splendid Shilling of Philips, in which the Mil-
tonic numbers and phrafeoiogy are allied to a
trifling fubjeft, is an exquifite fpecimen of this
fort of ridicule ; and no part of it more fo, than
the following lines :
Nqt blacker tube, nor of a fliorter fize,
Smbkes Cambro-Briton (verfed in pedigree.
Sprung from Cadwallader and Arthur, kings
Full famous in romantic tale) 5 when he
6 O'er
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 355
O'er n?aqy a craggy hill, and barren cliflF,
Upon a cargo of famed Ceftrian cheefe,
High-ove^{ha(Jo^ying rides.—
4. A fublime thought, or folemn expreffion;
unexpe<5tedly introduced in the nitdft of fomeching
frivolous, feldom fails to provoke a fmile, unlefs
it betray unfeafonable levity, or want of tafte in
the author.
My b^Jr 1*4 pQwder in the lyomcn's way.
And drefs, and talk of dreijing, more than they,
ril pleafe the maids of honour, if I can ;
Without black velvet breeches — what is man ! *^
5. An infiportant or violent paflion, proceeding
ffom a caufe apparently trifling, is apt (as was
remarked already) to excite laughter in the indif-
ferent fpe^tator. Here is a two^fold incongruity 1
a great ei&d is produced by a fmall caufe, and
an* important paiTion by an unicnpoitant objedt.
The peafant cliaging in the dark to t^he wall of
a ruin, with the. dreadful apprehenfion that a
bottpmlefs gulph was beneath him, while bis feet
were within a few inches of the firm ground, is
as laughable an inftance of diftrefs as can well
be imagined. SentimentS5 too, th^t partake but
little of the nature of paffion, are fometimes ludi-
crous, when they fcem more impor4:ant than the
occafion requires. As when Parfon Adams, to
Ihew that he was not dcftitute of money, pro-
* The Man o/Taflt^ by the Rev. Mr. Bramftone, in Dod-
flcy's Collcaion.
A a 2 duces
356 ON LAUGHTER AND
duces half a guinea, and ferioufly adds, that often-
tatibn of riches was not his motive for difplaying
it. A finer piece of humoyr was never written,
than Addifon's Jpurnal of the Court of honour in
the Tatkr*^ in which every reader porcdves the
oppofition of dignity and meannefs: the latter
arifing from the infignificance of the caufes ; the
former from the ferious air of the narrative, from
the accuracy of detail and minucenefs of enqui-
ry in the feveral examinations, and from the grave
deportment of the judge and jury. Indeed,
through the wM^ work, the perfonage of Ifaac
Bickerftaff is fupported with inimitable pleafan-
try. The conjurer, the politician, the man df
humour, the critic % the ferioufnefs of the morz*
lift, and the mock dignity of the aftrologer; the
vivacities and the infirmities peculiar , to old age,
are all fi> blended and contrafted in the cenfor of
6reat Britain^ as to form a charader equally com.
plex and natural, equally laughable and refpeft-
able.
6. To this head may perhaps be referred thofe
paflages, whereof the humour refults' from an
elaborate or minute, and at the fame time unex-
pected, illuftration of what is obvious or frivo-
lous.
" Grumio. A fire, good Curtis.— C/ir//j. Is
" my mafter and his wife coming, Grumio ?—
Gru. O, aye, Curtis, aye 5 and therefore fire,
fire. Cafi on no water ♦.'*
• Tamiogof the Shrew.
Sa
iC
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 357
So when twaiogs are fighting in the fireets.
With a third dog one of the two dogs meets s
With angry tooth he bices him to the bone,
And this dog fmatrts for what that dog has done f •
7. Mean circutnflances in folemn defcription
fccofi ridiculous to thole who are ienfible of the
incongruity, except where the effeft of that in*
congruity is countera£ted by certain caufes to be
ipecified hereafter. Of this blunder in conipofi*
tion the poetry of Blacknoorc fupplies thoufands
of examples. The lines on Etna, quoted in the
treatife on the Bathos, are well known. By his
contrivance, the mountain is made to labour, not
tirith a fubterraneous fire and external conflagra-
tion, but with a fit of the colic ; an idea, that
leems to have been familiar to him (for we meet
with it in other parts of his work); whether from
his being fubje£t to that diftemper, or, as a phy*
iician, particularly fuccefsful in curing it, I can-
not fay. This poet fee|ns to have had no notion
of any thing more magnificent, than the ufages
of his own time and neighbourhood ; which, ac»
cordingly, he transfers to the moft awful fubjedts,
and thus degrades into burlefque what he meant
to raife to fublimity. He tells us, that when
creation was finiflied, there was a great rejoicing
in heaven, with fire-works and illuminations, and
that the angels threw blazing meteors from the
battlements^. To the Supreme Being he moft
+ Ficldin&'S Tom Thuwh. ♦ Prince Arthur, p. 50.
foorth editioik
A a 3 inde.
358 ON LAUGHTER AND
indecently afcribes a variety of mechanical ope-
rations 5 and reprefents him as giving commiffions to
envoys and agents to take care of the heavenly in-
terejis in the land of Paleftine, and employing
pioneers to make a road for him aiid his army. Nay
he fpeaks, of houfebold troops and guards^ by whofe
attendance the court of the Almighty is both
graced 2Lnd defended f. Indeed the gcnerri tenor of
this author's facred poetry is fo^normoufly ateford,
as to move the indignation of a reader of tafte,
and confequently fupprefs the laughter, that fuch
incongruity would raife, if the fubjcft Were lefs
intereftingj.
But here it may be afked. What is the; charac-
teriftic of meannefs ? and what the general na*
ture of thofe circumftances, fentimencs, and allu-
fions, which, by falling jbclow an important fub-
jeft, have a tendency to become ridiculous.
Tiie following brief remarks will fuggeft a hiat
or two for anfwering this queftion.
Firft : Nothing natural is mean, unlefe It c6n-
. vey a difguftful idea. The pidVure of UlyflS^s
dog II, old and blind, and neglcftcd) is trot mean j
but the circumftance of his being 'covered 'with
vermin fhould have been omitted, becaufe it is
both ofFcnCiv^ and unneceflary. The defcfiption
of Evander's fields and cottages, in Vfrgil*, to
-f Paraphrafes of the Pfalms, &c. J Sec the next
chapter. || OdyfT. lib. 17. • Mneid. lib. 8-
far
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. ^59
far from being mean, is more beautifijl .and of
greater dignity, than that of the fun's palace- in
Ovid, becaufe more natural, more pleafing, and
inore inftruftive. Even the vices and crimes of
mankind, the cunning of lago, the perfidy of
Rdacbeth, the cruelty of Mezentius, the pride
of Agameninon, the fury of Achilles, may, frota
the ends to which they operate, and from the mo-
ral purpofes for which the poet introduces them,
;^cquire dignity fuflicient to entitle them to a
pia?e in ferious poetry of the higheft order.
Natural views of human charafter in every con-
dition of life, of human paffions even in the moft
wncuUivated niind^, aq^ of the external world
even where deftitute of all ornament, may be
rendprcd both ufeful and agreeable, an4 may
therefore ferve to embellifli the moft fublime per-
formances 5 provided xhat indelicacy be kept at
' a 4ift^RW> ^^^ ^^^ Unguagp elevated tp the
pijc}i of the con^pqiition.
But, fccondly, in judging of this fort of pro-
priety, rcfpedt muft be had to the notions and
XQanners of the people to whom the work was
criginally addrefied : for, by a change of circum-
ft^nces, any nwde of life, any profeffion, almod
any otgedt, may, without lofing its name, forfeit
part of its >original dignity. Few callings are now
held in lefs efteem, than that of itinerant ballad-
fingers ; and yet their predeceflbrs the Minftrels
were acizounted not only^ refpeftable but lacred.
— If we take our idea of a fliepherd from thofe
A a 4 who
|£o ON LAUGHTER AND
who keep fheep in this country^ we fhall have no
adequate fenfe of the propriety of many paflages
in old authors who allude to that chara6ter.
Shepherds in tneient times were men of great
diilinftion. The riches, and coniequently the
power, of many political focieties, depended then
on their flocks and herds ; and we learn, from
Homer, that the fons and favourites of kings,
and, from Scripture, that the patriarchs, took
upon them the employment of {hepherds. Xhis
gave dignity to an office, which in thofe days it
required many virtues and great abilities to exe-
cute. Thofe fhepherds muft have been watchful
and attentive in providing accommodation for
their flocks i and ftrong and valiant, to defend
them from robbers and beafts of prey, which, in
regions of gfeat extent and thinly peopled, would
be frequently met with« We find, that David's
duty as a fliepheid obliged him to encounter a
lion and a bear, which he flew with his own
hand. In a word, a good fliepherd was, in thol^
times, a character in the higheft degree refpe^t-
able both for dignity and virtue. Aiui therefore
we need not wonder, that, in holy writ, the moft
facred perfons fhould b^ compared to good fliep-
herds; that kings, in Hottier, fhould be called
(hepherds of the people*; and that Chriftian mi-
., " nifters
^ ^ A plain an4 pnaffefled H^caI v^|ion of Hpqsfr, ^e}I exe-
cuted, would be a valuable work. In the perofalf indeed it
yt^ould fipt \^ (o pieafing as Po]pe^$ Tr^nilation ; nor popld it
convey
LUDICROUS COMBOSITION. 3^1
niftcrs Ihould even now take the name of Pa(!ors»
and fpeak) of the fouls commicted to their care,
under the denomination of a flock.
Is then Homer^s poetry chargeable with mean-
nefsy becaufe it reprefents Achilles preparing fup*
eonvey any adeqmte idea of the harmooy of. the origiDal : but
hy prcferving the fignres^ allofions, and turns of langnage, pe-
culiar to the great father of poetry, it would give thofe who
arc ignorant of Greek, a jufter notion of the manners of hit
age, and of the flyle of his coffipofition, than can be learned
fro0i any tranfiation of him that has yet appeared. Some*
thmg of this kind the world had reafon to cxpeA from Ma*
dame Dacier, but vyas difappointed* Homer, as drefled oat
by that Lady, has more of the Frenchman in his appearance,
than of the old Grecian, Ifis beard is clofe*(baved, his hair
is powdered, and there is even a little rottgg upon his cheek.
To fpeak more intelligibly, his fimple and nervous diQion ia
often wire-drawn into a flafhy and feeble paraphrafe, and bit
imagery as well as harmony foroetimes annihilated by abbrevia-
tion. Nay to make him the more modiih, the good lady it
at pains to patch op his ftyle with onneceffary phrafes and floa«
riflMs in the French tafte ; which have joft fuch an effedt in a.
tranflation of Homer« as a bag-wig and fnulF-box would have
> in a pidure of Achilles. The French tongue has a fimplicity
and a Hyle of figures and phrafes peculiar to itfelf^ but is fo
ctrcomicribed by the mode, that it will hardly admit either
the ornaments or the plainnefs of antient language. Sh^-
bird rf thipfph is a fovooritc axprcifioB of Homer';, and ja
indeed a beautiful periphrafis : it occurs, I think, twelve times
in the firft i:^t bopks of (be Jliad| and in M. Dacier's profe
veiiion of thofe book?, only once. A celebrated French Tranf-
lator of Demofthenes makes the orator addrefs his country*
men, not with the manly ^fimptidty of Ti msm 9/ Jthins, but
by the Gothic title of ^nilt^UM: which is as real burlelque,
and almoll as great an anachronifin, as that paflage of Prior,
Fhere Protegc;n^$*t mai^ invites Apelles to drink tea.
per
362 ON DAUGHTER AND •
per for his guefts, the princefs Nauficaa wafhing
the clothes of the family, Eumeus making his
own fhoes, UlyfTes the wooden frame of his own
bed, and the princes of Troy harneffing their fa-
ther's chariot ? By no means. The poet painted
the manners as he faw them : and thofe offices
could not in his time be accounted mean, which
in his time employed occafionally perfons of the
higheft rank and merit. Nay in thefe offices there
is no intrinfic meannefs 5 they are ufeful and ne-
ceffary : and even a modern hero might be in
circumftances, in which he would think it a fin.
gular piece of good fortune to be able to perform
them. Whatever ferves to make us independent,
will always (in the general ppinion of mankind)
poflefs dignity fufficient to raife it far above ridi-
cule, when defcribed in proper language. In
Homer's days, fociety was more unfcttled than it
• is now ; and princes and great men, being ob-
liged to be more adventurous, were fubje<a to
greater changes of fortune, and as liable 10 cold,
wearinefs, and hunger, as the meaneft of their
people. It was necefluy that made them ac-
quainted with all the arts of life. Nor was their
dignity more affe6led by the employments aboJi^
mentioned, than that of a modern prince would
be, by riding the great horfe, or putting on his.
own clothes.
Thirdly : Every ferious writer or fpeaker fuf-
tains a certain character : — ^n hiftorian, that of
a man v/ho wifhes to know the truth of fafts,
and
• LUDICROUS CXDMPOSITION, 363
^tid to record them agreeably -, a preacher, that
•lof one who is deeply affcfkcd with the truths of
religion, and anxious to Jmprefs them upon
others ; and an epic poet is to be confidered as
a perfon, contemplating with admiration a feries
of great events, and employing all the powers of
language, harmony, and fiftion, to defcribe them
in the moft captivating manner. Now by a pe-
culiar kind of fagacity, either inftinftive or de-
rived from experience, all people of tafte knowj
what thoughts and words and modes of expref-
fion are fuitable to an author's charader, and
what are ptherwife. If, when he is fuppofed to
be taken up with admiration of fome great ob-
jeft, it fhould appear, from his language, allu-
fions, or choice of circumftances, that his fancy
is wandering to things remote from, or difpropor*
tioned to, the thoughts that occupy his mind, we
-are ftruck with the impropriety -, as we fhould be
with the unfuitablenefs of that man's behaviour,
who, while he kneeled, and repeated a prayer,
fhould at the fame time employ himfelf in wind-
ing up his watch, counting his money, or adjuft-
ing his periwig at a looking-glafs.
In general, that is a mean circumftancCi a mean
allufioo, a mean exprefTion, which lefTens or dc-
bafes our idea of what it was intended to embel-
li(h or magnify. It always brings difappointment,
but not always painful difappointment : for
meannefs may give rife to jocularity, as well as to
contempt, difguft, or indignation.
8. Parodies
364 ON LAUGHTER AND
8. Parodies may be ludicrous, from the op-
pofition between /«i/tfn/y of phrafe, and Mver/Spf
of meaning, even though both the original and
the imitation he fcrious. The following lines in
tbemfelves contain no laughable matter :
Bread was his only food, his drink the brook.
So (mall a falary did his re£lor fend :
He left his laundrefs all he had, a book :
He found in death, 'twas all be wilh'd, a friend.
Yet one reads them with a fmile, when one re-
collefbs the original :
Large was his bounty, and his foul fincere;
Heaven did a recompenfe as largely fend :
He gave to Mifery all he bad, a tear ;
He gaio*dfrom Heaven 'twas all he wifli'd, a friend*
But in moft cafes the ridicule of parodies will be
greatly heightened, when the original is fublime
orferious, and the imitation frivolous or mean*
The Lutrin, Punciad, and Rape of the Lock,
abound in examples.
Parodies produce their full efFcft on thofe only
who can trace the imitation to its original. Cla-
riffa's harangue, in the fifth canto of the tall
mentioned poem, gives pleafure to every reader ;
but to thofe who recoiled that divine fpeech of
Sarpcdon *, whereof this is an exaft parody, it
muft be entertaining in the higheft degree. Hence
it is, that writers of the greateft merit are moft
liable to be parodied : for if the reader perceive
• Jliad, xii. verf. 310— 32S.
not
I-UDICROUS COMPOSITION. 365
not the relation between the copy and its arche-
type, the humour of the parody is loft ; and this
relatfbn he will not perceive, unlefs the original
be familiar to him. Much of Lucian's humour
lies in his parodies *, the phrafeology and compo-
' fition of Demofthenes in particular he often mi-
mics: and it is reafonabie to fuppofe, that we
ihould be more aSeded wi,th the humorous
writings of the ancients, if we were better ac-
quainted with the authors to whom they occa-
fionally allude* Certain it is, that parody was
much in ufe among them. Ariftocle fpeaks of
one Hegemon as the inventor of it f% and juftly
refers parody in writing, and caricatura in paint*
ing, to the fame fpecies of imitation, namely to
that in which the original is purpofely debafed in
Ac copy. Homer, Virgil, and Horace, have
been more frequently parodied than any othei^
authors. Of modern performances, Hamlet's
and Cato's foliloquies, and Gray's Elegy in a
country church-yard, have been diftinguilhcd in
this way. Thefe mock imitations are honourable
to the original authors, becaufe tacit acknow-
ledgments of their popularity : but I cannot ap-
plaud thofe wits who take the fame freedom with
the phrafeology of Scripture, as DodQey has done
in his burlefque chronicle of the kings of Eng-
land. I do not think that he meant any harm ;
but it is unwife to annex ludicrous ideas to lan-
guage that fhould ever be accounted facred.
t Arift. Poet. fca. a.
Q. The
5
366 ON LAUGHTER AND
9. The Ludicrous Style may be drvide^ into
two fons, the Mock-heroic^ and (taking the word
in a ftrid fenfe) the Burlefque. Of the former th»
Dunciad is a standard, and Hudibras of the lat-
ter. A Q)ixture of dignity and meannefs i^ dis-
cernible in both. In the firil, mean things are
made ludicrous by dignity of language and ver-
fiiication *» and therefore parodies or imitations of
the ftyle and numbers,, of fublime poetry, have
a very good efFeft. Thus Homer's Iliad is the
prototype of the Batracbomyomachia^y Paradife
Loft of the Splendid Shillings Sind Virgil of the
Dunciad. Solemnity is the charader aflumed by
the mock-heroic poet ; he confiders little things
as great, and defcribes them accordingly. — The
hurlefque author is a bufFoon by profeffion. Great
things, when he has occafion to introduce them,
he confiders as little ; and degrades them by
mean words and colloquial phrafes, by allufions
to the manners and bufmefs of low life, and by
a peculiar levity or want of dignity in the con-
ftrudion of his numbers. Ancient fafts and cuf-
toms are fometimes burlefqucd by modern phra-
feoiogy f -, as the ftatue of Cefar or Alexander .
would
* The Battle of the Frogs and Mice.
f Witnefs the following defcription of a Roman Triumph,
in Hodib. p. 2. c. 2.
—As the Aldermen of Rome,
Their foes at training overcome.
Well mounted in their befl array,
Upon a carre, and who but they !
And
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 367
'wroald be, by a modern drcfs ; — by that drefs,
which, is. too familiar to our eye to command re-
fpeft, and which we fee every day worn by men
of all charafters, both good and bad, both impor*
tant and infignificant. Yet the ftatue of a nno-
dern" hero- in the drefs of Alexander or Cefar
would not be ludicrous 5 partly, becaufe we arc
accuftomed to fee the beft Ilatues in ancient
dreffcs ; partly, becaufe thofe drcffcs have more
intrinfic beauty than the modern; partly, bc^
. caufe we have never feen them applied to any
purpofe but that of adorning the images of great
men ; and partly, no doubt, becaufe what bears
the ftamp of antiquity does naturally command
veneration.
In accoutering ancient heroes for the modern
ftage, it were to be wiflied, that fome regard
were had to Coftume and probability. Carols wig
is famous. We have iczn Macbeth dreflfed in
fcarlet and gold, with a full-bottoiji*d periwig,
which on his ufurping the fovercignty, was forth-
with decorated with two additional tails. No-
thing cpuld guard fuch incongruity from the
ridicule of thofe who know any thing of ancient
manners, but either the merit of the adlor and
of the play, or the force of habit, which, as will
appear by and by, has a powerful influence in
fuppreffing rifible emotions. — But is it not as ab-
And followed by a world of tall lads.
That merry ditties troll'd and ballads.
Did ride with many a good morrow.
Crying", Hey for our lowr, through the borough,
fut«
368 ON LAUGHTER AND
furd to make Cato and Macbeth fpeak Engliflf,
as to drefs them in periwigs ? No : the former
praftice is juftificd upon the pica of neccffity j
but it can never be neceflary to equip an ancient
hero with a modern ornament which in itfelf is
neither natural nor graceful. I admit, that the
cxadk Roman drefs would not fuit the Britifti ftage:
but might not fomething be contrived in its ftead,
which would gratify the unlearned part of the au-
dience, without offending the reft ? If fuch a re-
formation (hall ever be attempted, I hope care
will be taken to avoid the error of thofe painters,
who, by joining in one piece the fafliions of dif-
ferent centuries, incur the charge of anachronifm,
and exhibit fuch figures on their canvas, as never .
appeared upon earth. I have in my eye a por-
trait, in other refpeds erf great merit, of the late
Marifchal Keith % who appears habited in a fuit
of Gothic armour, with ruffles of the prefent
falbion at his wrifts, a bag- wig on his head, and
a mufket in his hand. Alexander the Great, ia
a hat and feather, wielding a tomahawk, or fnap*
ping a piftol at the head of Clytus, would fcarce
be a greater impropriety, — But to return :
Thefe two ftyles of writing, the Mock-heroic and
the BurUfquCj are not eflential either to wit or to
humour. A performance may be truly laughable,
in which the language is perfedly ferious and ade-
quate. And as the pathos that refults from inci-
dent is more powerful than what arifes merely
from vehemence of expreflion, fo an humorous
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 369
talc, delivered with a grave look and ferioui
phrafeology, like Pope's « Narrative of the
•* phrenzy of John Dennis^" or Arbuthnot's
** Account of what paffed in London on occafion
« of Whifton's propjiecy," may be more ludi-
crous, than either the Burkfque or Mockrberoic Jiyle
could have made it. That a grave face heightens
the efFeft of a merry ftory, has been often ob-
ferved ; and, , if wq^ fuppofe laughter to arife from .
an uncxpcdted coincidence of relation and contra-
riety, is eafily accounted for. *
ID. Mean fcntiments, or unimportant phrafcs,
delivered in heroic verfe, are fometimcs laughable*
from the folemnity of the meafure, and The op.
pofite nature of the language and fubjeft. Gay
thought the following couplet ludicrous :
This IS the ancient hand and eke the pen.
Here is for horfes hay, and meat for men.
But this, if continued, would lofe its efFed, by
raifing difguft, an emotion of greater authority
than laughter. Not4iing is lefs laughable than a
dull poem ; but flaflies of extreme abfurdity may
give an agreeable impulfc to the fpirits of the
reader. Extreme abfurdity is particularly enter-
taining in a Ihort performance, where the author
feriouQy meant to do his bcft; as in epitaphs and
love-ietters written by illiterate pcrfons. Here,
if there is no apparent oppofition of dignity and
mcannefs, there may be other kinds of Rifible in^
congruity;— avail difproportion between the in-
tcntion and execution, between the ferioufnefs of
B b the
yjxy ON LAUGHTER AND
the author and the iafignificance of his irork^
befides the many ddd cliiiCfafts ih the Vrotlc itfe^,
— of mean phrafea knd fericirttents af||>iriT)g to im-
portance) of founding Wards with little fighifica-
tion^ of inconfiftent or unr<ekted expreflions
j^laced contiguoufly^ of fentbncis that feem to
promife mucli bm^nd in nothing ; not to mention
thofe blandfcrs in writingt^ ^iid ibleciftfis in Ian-
guage, that fdmetimes give a ludicrous air to
wkat had a very fotemn d«ftinadon.
Modern language, adapted to thofe meafures
of poetry that are peculiar to Greek aiid Latin^
vrill iikewife appear ridiculotis to fuch as are ac-
quainted with the claflfic authors ; on account of
the unufual contraft of modern words and ancient
rhythm. Hence the ludicrous awkwardnefs iA
an Englifh hexameter. It looks as if a man were
to walk the ftrcet, or come into a room, with the
pace of a trotting horfe. Between the movertient,,
and that which moves, there is a manifeft incon^
gruity. Sir Philip Sidney attempted to introduce
the hexameter into the EngliJh tongue, and has
exemplified it in his Arcadia\ but it fuits not the
genius of the language, and has never been a-
dopted by any perfon who underftood the prin-
ciples of Englilh numbers. Wallis, finding that
the firft verfc of the common profe verfion <>f the
fccond pfalm was by accident an hexameter, has
reduced rhe whole i^^to that meafure^ but the
found is extremely uncouth. And W^atts's. Eng^
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION, ^yi
lifti Sapphic Ode * on the Laft Dajr, notwith-
ftaoding the awful fuibje6t» has fomechiiig in the
xadence that ^Imoft provokes a (mile*
TJiere is a poem well known in North Britaint
wlkich to a Scotchma/I who underftands Latin is
abundantly entertaining. It was written in the
beginning of the laft century, by the famous
Drummond of Hawthornden. The meafure is
hexameter^ the numbers Virgiiian, and the lan-
guage Latin mixed with Broad Scotch. Nothing
can be more ludicrous than fuch a jumble. It
is dignity and meannefs in the extreme -, dignity
of found, and meannefs of wcnrds and ideas. I
Ihall not give a fpecimen ; as the humour is local,
and rather coarfe, and the images, tho' ftrong,
mt quite delicate.
II, On fome of the principles above mentioned^
t)ne might explain the ludicrous charader of a
certain clafs of abfurdities to be met with in very
refpe^table authors, and proceeding from a fu-
peraibundance erf wit, and the ^fFedtation of extra-
ordinary refinement. It is not uncommon to fay,
trf a perfon who is old, er has long been in
-danger from a difeafe fuppofed mortal, that ** he
« hitts one foot in the grave and the other follow-
^ ing.'* A certain author, fpeaking of a pious
^Id woman, is willing xo adopt this proverbial
amplification, but Jby his jeSosts to improve it,
♦ It is called Sapphic, bec^ufc iii fpond it refemblcs thp
modern pronunciation of the Sapphic vtrie. But the true
fhfthm of that verfe is quite different.
B b 2 prefents
372 ON LAUGHTER AND.
prefents a laughable idea to his reader, when he
fays, that " ftie had one foot among the ftars/*
The following verfes (fpokcii by Cdrtez on his
arrival in America) were once no doubt thought
very fine; but the reader who attends to the image-
ry will perceive that they are very abfurd, and
fomcwhat ridiculous :
On what new happy climate are We thrown^
So long kept fecret, and fo lately known i
As if our old world modeftly withdrew,
And here in private had brought forth a new *•
Here, befides the jumble of incongruous ideas,
there is on the part of the author a violent and
folcmn effort ending in a frivolous performance*
The pedantic folemnity of the elder grave-dig-
ger, in Hamlet^ makes the abfurdity of what he
fays doubly entertaining ; and the ridicule is yet
further heightened by the ferioufnefs of his com-
panion, who liftens to his nonfenfe, and thinks
himfclf inftrufted by it. " For here lies the point
" (fays the Clown), if I drown myfelf wittingly,
*^ it argues . an a£t ; and an adt hath three
*' branches j it is. to aft, to do, and to perform,
*' Argal, Ihe drowned herfclf wittingly. — Other
" Clown, . Nay, but hear you, Goodman Delver.
" — Clown. Give me leave. Here lies the water,
" good ; here ftands the man, good : if the man
*' go to this water, and drown himfclf, it is, will
*• he, nill he, he goes j mark you that. But if
* Dryden'a Indian Emperor,
« the
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 37^
*< the w^er come to him, and drown him, he
♦« drowns not himfelf. Argal, he that is not
*' guilty of his own death, (hortcns not his own
*« life.— O/A^r Clown. But is this law i-^Iown^
** Aye, marry is it : crowner's queft law.*'
Cicero and Quintilian both obferve, that an ab^
furd anfwer, whether cafual or intentional, may
give rife to laughter f •, a remark which Erafmus
had in view, perhaps, when he wrote his dialogue
called Ahfurda. In this cafe, the mere juxtapofi-
tion of unfuitable ideas may, as already hinted,
form the ludicrous quality. But if laughter is
€ver raifed by a pertinent anfwer proceeding from
the mouth of one from whom nothing but abfur#-
jdity was expcdlcd, it would feem to be in part
occafioned by the furprifmg difproportion of the
caufc to the cffe^, of the intellcftual weaknefs of
the fpeaker to the propriety of what is fpoken.
^* How (hamcful is it that you fbould fall aQecp
^* (faid a dull preacher to his drowfy audience) ?
V" when that poor creature (pointing to an idiot
^^ who was leaning on a ftafF and flaring at him)
•* is both awake and attentive! Perhaps, Sir,
" replied the fool, I fliould have been afleep too,
** if I had not been an idiot."
Whatever reftraint good-breeding or good-
nature may impofc upon his company, the im-
' perfedt attempts of a foreigner to fpeak a lan-
guage he is not mailer of, mufl be allowed to be
t Cic« de Or^t. lib. 2. § 68. ; Quint. Inft. Orat. lib. 6.
9 b 3 fome-
374 ON LAUGHTER ANI»
fooKlwhat Iqdicrowi •, for they are optnlv laughed
at by children and clowns ; and Shakef^eare and
Moliere have not difdained to make them the
objefts of comic ridicule* Nor would Ariftotic,
if we niay judge from hi« definition of Comie
Kidicule^ have blamed them for it. In the per-
fon who fpeaks with the intelligence and figure of
a man, and the incapacity of a child^ there is
fomething like tn oppofition of dignity and m^n-
nefs ; as well ds of lidiilarity and diffimilitude^ in
what he fays compared with what he (houM fay :
there is too a difproportioti between the perform-
ance and the effort y sind there may be blunders
that pervert the meaning,*— Thofe folecifms,
vulgarly called Bulls^ are of different characters,
and carlnot perhaps be referred to any one clais
of laughable abfurdity, If$ as often happens,
they difguife real nonfenfe with ah appearance of
fenfc, and proceed from apparent ferioufhefi
though real want of confideratiod in the fpeaker,
their ludicrous nature iliay be explained on the
principles already ipecified.
12. In language, there are three Ibrts of phra-
feology. I. Some words and phrafes, being al-
ways ncceflary, are ufed by people of all con-
ditions, and find a place in every fort of writing.
Thcfe form the bulk of every language ; and
cannot be faid to pofTefs in themlelves either mean-
nefs or dignity. In the fublimeft compoficions
they are not ungraceful^ in works of humour,
and in familiar difcourfe, they may be employed
with
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 37^
W}th propriety; and, from the uniycrfality of
cheir application, they have the advantage of
being underftood by all who fpeak the language to
which they belong. 2. Other expreffions have a
peculiar dignity, becaufe found only in the more
elevaied compolirions, or fpoken only by perfons
Gtf learning ai)d diftin^ion, and on the more
Cbleaui occafions of life. Such are the words and
phrafes peculiar to fcripture and religion; fuch
ar^ thofe that in all police languages conditute
what is called the poetical dialed * ; and fuch are
uiofl: words of foreign original, which, tho*
naturalized, arc not in familiar ufe. 3, There
are alfo certain phrafes and words, which may
properly enough be called wean\ becaufe ufed
chiefly by perfons of no learning or breeding, or
by others on familiar occafions only f , or in order
to
^ See EfTay on Poetry, part 2. cbap. 1. ttQ. z.
f CailalioS Tran^cion of the Old Teftament does great
lionour to his learnipg, hut not to his tafte. The quaiotncfs
of his Latin ftyle betrays a deplorabje inat^eotion to the iimple
^ajefty of the original. In the Song of Solomon he is parti-
cularly injttdicious ; debafiog the magniiicence of the language
and fabje6l by Dimmuti*v4s^ which» though expreffive of /ami »
Tt0f iwkmrmmif he fliould haiFe known to be deflitute of
4igni^, and therefore improper on folemn occafions. This
incongruous mixture, of fublime ideas and words comparatively
mean, has a very bad efFe£l, and degrades the nobleil poetry
almoft to the level of burlefque. ** Mea columbula, oilende
** mihi tuum vulticalum ; fac ut audiam tuam voculam ; nam
** et voculam venuftolam, et vdticulum habes lepidulum.—
** Ccf vic^lam habes Davidica^ turris fimilem.— ^ervicula quafi
B b 4 ** eburnea
376 ON LAUGHTER AND
to cxprefs what is trifling or contemptible; Such
arc trite proverbs ; colloquial oaths, and forms of
complitn(^nt -, the ungranamatical phrafcs of con-
vcrfationj the dialeft peculiar to certain trades 5
the j^rgon.^ beggars, thieves, * gamblers, and
fops ^ foreign and provincial barbarifms, and the
like. Thefe, if intelligible, may be introduced
in burlefque writing with good effeft, as in Hudi^
iras and the Hijiory of John Bull-, but ought never
to find a place in ferious writing-, nor even in the
Mock-heroic^ except perhaps in a fliort charac-
teriftical fpcech, like that of Sir Plume in the
Rape of the Lock * -, nor indeed in any literary
work where elegance is expeded. This Cant ftyle,
las it is fometimes called, was very prevalent in
England in the latter part of the laft century 5
having been brought in by the courtiers of Charles
the Second, who, to Ihow their contempt for the
' folemn charafter that had diftinguifhed the pre-
ceding period, ran into the oppofite extreme, and
affeftcd profligacy of manners, profarienefs of
talk, and a loofe ungrammadcal vulgarity of ex-
preffion. L'Eftrange is full of it, not only in his
Fables, where burlefque may be pardonable, but
even in his Tranflations of Jofephus and Tacitusf.
Eachard,
« eburnea turricula. — Utinam elTes roihi qqafi fraterculus, qui
*^ mt2t mammas materculae AixiiTes. — V^nio in meos hortulos,
^^ fororcula mea fponfa. •*— Ego dormio, vigilante meo cor?
f^ culo," &c/
* See canto 4. vcrf, 127.
t He makes the grave and fublime Tacitas fpeak of fome
jfcntlcmen, *< who had fiathtni their nejls in the civil wa,
•• between
Ludicrous coMPoisiTibN; 377
JEachard, by a fimilar indifcretion, has trans^^
formed the elegant Terence into a writer of farce
and buffoonery. Nay, Dryden himfelf, in one or
two inilances, and perhaps in more, has bur-
Icfqued both Homer and Virgil, by interlarding
his Tranflations with this beggarly dialed ♦. And
fome
«« between Ccfer and Pompey ;'• and tells us, that theEmpero?
Vitellius was lu^td out of bis boU by thofe who came to kill
him'.
* So heavy a charge againft (b great an author ought not \6
be advanced without proof.— In Dryden*8 verlion of the firA
book of the Iliad, Jupiter addrelTes Juno in tbefe words :
My bou/eboU curfe^ my lawfui plague ^ the (py
Of Jove*s defignsy his §tber/quinting tyt.
Homer, in the fame book, fays* '* The Gods were troubled
^< in the palace of Jove, when Vulcan, the renowned artificer^
'^ began to addrefs them in thefe words, with a view to footk
'^ his beloved mother, the white-arm*d Juno:*'— which Dry-
den thus veriifies :
The limping/mitb obferved the fadden'd feaft,
'And bopping ben and there ^ himfelf a j eft ^
Put in bis word, that neither might offend.
To Jove obfequious, yet his mother's friend.
Homer has been blamed, not without reafon, for degrading his
Gods into mortals ; but Dryden has degraded them into black-
guards. He concludes the book in a flrain of buffoonery as
grofs as any thing in Hudibras :
Drunken at laft, and drowfy, they depart
Each to his houfe, adorn'd with* labourM art
Of the lame architect. The thundering God,
Even he withdrew to reft, and had bis load\
iUsfwimming bead to needful ileep apply d^
And Juno lay unheeded by his fide,
Th*
gyZ ON LAUGHTER AND
fome imprudent divines have employed it^ where
it is mod pernicious, and ^bfohttely intolerable,
even in religion icfelf.
Rutherford's
The paf&ge literally rendered n no more tkan this. '* Now,
** ^when the Cbining light of the (^^ waa gQoe 4owe, ^hf
** other gods being inclined to flqmbery departed to their
** feveral homes, to where Volcaoy the lame deity, renqwned
** for ingenious contrivance, had bnilt for each a palace* And
'* Olympian Jove, the thonderer, went to the bed where,
*^ when fweet fieep came upon him, he was accoftomed to re*
** pofe. Thither afcendiog, he refigned himielf to reft ; and near
** him Juno, diftiaguilhed by the golden throne.'* — It is faid,
that Dryden once intended to tranflate the whole Iliad. Taking
this firft book for a fpecimen, I am glad, both on Homer's
account and on his own, that he did not* * It ts tainted through-
out with a dafli of burlefque (owing not only to his choice of
words, but alio to his paraphrafes and additions), and with £o
much of the profane cant of his age, that if we were to judge
of the poet by the tranflator, we fliouid imagine the Biad to
have been partly defigned for a fatire upon the clergy.
Virgil, in his ninth Eclogue, puts thefe wor^s in the mouth
of an unfortunate fhepherd.
O Lycida, vivi pervenimus, advena nofiri.
Quod nunquam veriti fumus, ut poi&flbr agelli
Diceret, Hsc mea funt, veteres migrate cdoni.
Nunc vidi, trifles, quoniam fors omnia verfat,
Hos illi (quod nee bene vertat!) mittimus h»dos.
It is ftrange diat Dryden did not perceive the beautiful fimplics*
ty of thefe lines. If he had, he would not h^re written the
following ridiculous tranflation.
O Lycidas, at laft
The time is come I never thoogbt to Ae
(Savage itfofatioa for my form and me).
When
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 379
Rutherford's Letters, well known in North
Britain, are notorious in this way ; not fo much
for the rudenefsof the ftyle in general, for that
mighe be pardoned in a Scotch writer who lived
O0e hundred and twenty years ago, as for the aU
lufiohs and figures* which are inexcufeably grofs
and groveling. A reader who is unacquainted
with che charadter of Rutherford might imagine,
that thofe letters muft have been written with i
view to ridicule every thing that is facred. And
though there is reafon to believe the author had
no bad mean'uigf one cannot without horror fee
religion profaned by a phrafeology which one
would fooner expeft from a profligate clown in an
alehoufe, than from a clergyman. Such perform*
ances are very detrimental to true piety; they
pervert the ignorant, and encourage the profane-
nefs of the fcoffer. Nor let it be faid, that they
make religious truth intelligible to the vulgar:
rather fay, that they tend to make it appear con-
temptible. Indeed a preacher, who affefts a dif-
play of metaphyfical learning, or interlards his
compofition with terms of art or fcience, or with
uncommon words derived from the Greek and
Latin, mufl: be little underftood by unlettered
hearers : but that is a fatolt which every preacher
When the grim captain in a furly tone
Cries oat, Pack up^ yi ra/cals, and be gom*
Kick*tl iutf nut fit the heft face on*t nve ceM,
r And theie two kids, t* appeaie his angfy mood,
I bear; of which the furies gitte bimg^^d.
who
380 ON LAUGHTER AND
who has the inftrudion of his people at heart, ancj
is matter of his language and fubjedt, will care-
fully and eafily avoid. For between plainnefs and
meannefs of cxprcffion there is a very wide differ-
ence. Plain words are univerfally underftood,
and may be ufed in every argument, and are efpe-
cially. requifite in all writings addrefled to the
people. Mean language has no (landard, is
different in different places, and is applicable to
burlefque arguments only, Gulliver's Travels,
or the Drapier's Letters, are intelligible in every
part of England •, but the dialedts of Yorkfliire,
Lancafliire, and Somerfetihire, are hardly under*
ftood beyond the limits of thofe provinces. A
fermon in Broad Scotch would now feem ridicu-
lous to a Scotch peafant, and witha} be lefs intelli-
jgible than one of Swift's or Atterbury's.
Few things in language have a more debafing
influence than provincial barbarifms j becaufe wq
feldom hear them, except from illiterate people,
jnd Qi\ familiar occafions*. Hpnce, upon the
principles
* There is an obvious difference between dialed and pro-
acRCiation^ A man may be both learned and well bred, and
yQt never get the better of his national ^ccent, Thip^ m^y
make his fpeech ungracefnl^ but will not render it ridiculous*
It becomes ridiculous only when it is debafed by thofe yulgari*
tics that convey a mean idea of the fpeaker^ Every Scotchman
f>f tade is ambitious to avoid the iblecifms of his native dialed^,
And this by care and ftudy he may do, and be able« even in
familiar difcourfe. to command fuch a phrafeology as, if com-«
li>iUed to writing, would be allowed to be pure Engliih. Hp
may
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION, fit
principles here laid down, it might be prefumed
a jn'ierij that to thofe who thoroughly underftand
Checn, they would be apt to appear ludicrouii
eipecially when cither the^ fubjeft, of the condi*^
tion of the fpcaker, gave ground to expert a more
polite ftyle. And this is fo much the cafe, that
in North Britain it is no uncommon thing to ke A
man obtain a charafter for jocularity, merely by
fpeaking the vulgar broad Scotch. To write in
that tongue, and yet to write fcrioufly, is' now
impofTible ; fuch is the efFed of fnean expreflions
applied to an important fubjedt : fo that if a Scotch
merchant, or man of bufinefs, were to write to
his countryman in his native dialed, the other
would conclude that he was in jcft. Not that
this language is naturally more ridiculous than
others. While fpoken [and written at the court
of Scotland, and by the moft polite perfons in
the kingdom, it had all the dignity that any other
tongue, equally fcanty and uncultivated, could
pofiefs; and was a diale£t of Englifh, as the
Dutch is of German, or tfie Portuguefc of Spani(h|
^hat is, it was a language derived from and like
may too fo far diveil himfelf of liis national accent as to bt
perfeflly intelligible^ where-^ever the Engliih language is under*
flood* But the niceties of Engliih pronanciation he cannot
acquire, without an early and long refidence among Englifh
people who fpeak well. It is however to be hoped, that in
the next century this will not be (o difficult. From the attention
that has of late been paid to the lludy of the Englifh' tongue^
the Scots have greatly improved both their pronunciation ana
their ftyle within thefe M thirty years.
ftnother^
$H ON LAUGHTER AND
amother, btst fabjeSt CO ireowi) laws, and rcgidated
bff the practice of thofe who writ wd ijpoke k.
Buty for more thaa half a century poft, it has,
even by the Soots thiem&lves, faeea conQdtrcd a^
the dialed of the vulgar; ^e learned aod polite
having, for thg moA part, adopted the Engliih
in its ftead ; a prefereace juftly due to the fuperior
-genius of that noble language, and the natural
cffedi: of the pre&nt conftitution xif Great Bntaiti.
And iiow, in Scotland, there is no fuch thing z^
A ftandard of the native tongue ^ Jiothing palTes
for good language, but what is believed to be
Englilh ; every county thinks its owxi fpcech pre-
ferable to its neighbour's, without entertaining
any partiality for that of the chief town : and the
populace of Edinburgh ipeak a^iialeA not moce
intelligible, nor ie& difagreeable, to ji native .pf
fiuchan, than the dialed of fiuchan is to a nativ^
•of fidinbuffgh.
The grestter part of Racnlay's Gentle Shepherd
is written in a bnoad Scotch dialcft. The fenti*
ments^^ tha^ piece are natural^ the <:ircuniftances
4ntepeftiiig5i the charaders well drawii, well dif-
tinguilhcd, and well contrafted; and the fable
lias more probatniity than any other paftocal draova
I am acquainted with. To an Englifhman, who
had never converfed with the common people of
Scotland, the language would appear only anti-
quated, obfcure, or unintelligible; but to a
^Scotchman who thoroughly underftands k, and is
^ware of its vulgarity, it appears ludicrous*, from
the contraft between meannefs off phrafe, -and
dignUy
4
LUDlCftOtrS COMPOSITION. 3SJ
digniiy or ferioufnefs of fcntimcnt. This gives a
farcical air even to the moft afFedtng parts of the
poem ^ and occafions an impropriety of a peculiar
kind, which is very obTervabh in the rcprefenta-
cion. And accordingly, this play, with all its
merit, and with a ftrong national partiality in its
favour, has never given general fatisfaftion upon
the Itage.
I have finilhed a pfctty filTl enumeration of ex-
amines; but am very far iFrom fuppofing it fo
complete, as to exhibit every fpecies of hidicrous
abfurdtty. ^k)r am I certain, that the reader will
be pleafed with my arrangement, or even admit
that all my examples have the ludicrous charaAer.
But flight inaccuracies^ in an inquiry fo little con*
nefted with practice, will perhaps be overlooked
as not very material ; efpecially when it is con-
i&dered^ that the fubjeft, though familiar, is
both copious and delicate, and though frequently
fpoken of by philofophcrs in general terms, has
iH^rer before been attempted, fo far as I know, in
the M^ay of indudbion. At any rate, it will ap-
pear from what ^as bee^ faid, that the theory
here adopted is f^aufible ^t lead *, and that the
philofophy of Laughter is not wholly urtftffcepti-
ble of 'method. And they who may think fit to
amufe themfehres at any ^time with this fpecula-
tion» whatever ftre& they may lay upon my rea-
foning, will perhs^ find their account in my col-
ledkionof acampks. And, provided they fubifti^
tute a more perfed theory of their own in its
ftead, I ftiall not be oflfended, if by meafts of thcfe
very examples they (hould find out and demon-
flxace the imperfcdion of mine.
384 ON LAUGHTER AND
CHAP. III.
Limitations of the preceding doBrine. In^
congruity not Ludicrousy I. When cujlo^
mary and common ; nor^ . 11. When it ex^
cites any poiverful emotion in the beholder^
asy I. Moral Difapprobation^ 2. Indigna^
tion or Difgtift^ 3* Pity ; or^ 4. Fear;
III. Influence of Good- breeding upon Laughs
ter; IV. Of Similitudes j as connected ivith
thisfubjeSl; V. Recapitulation.
THAT an oppofition of relation and contra-
riety is often difcernible in thofe things
•which we call Ludicrous, feems now to be fuffi-
ciently proved. But does every fuch oppofition
or mixture of contrariety and relation, of fuit-
ablenefs and incongruity, of likenefs and diflimi-
litude, provoke laughter ? This requires further
difquifition.
I. If an old Greek or Roman were to rife from
}iis grave, and fee the human head and fhoulders
Qverlh^dgwed with a vaft periwig ; or were he to
contemplate the native hairs oi a fine gentleman
arranged in the prefcnt form*, part ftanding
♦ In the year 1764.
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 38^
ercft, as if their owner vcrc bcfct with hobgpb*
litis, and part by means of greafe and meal con«
folidatcd into pafte : he could hardly fail to be
ftruck with the appearance ; and I queftion^
whether the features even of Heraclirus hinf)felf»
or of the younger Cato, would not relax a little
upon the occa&on. For in this abfurd imitatioa
of nature, we have likenefs coupled with diflimi-
litude, and imagapary grace with real deformity^
and inconvenience, fought after with eagernefs^
and at confiderable expenc^. Yet in thefe fafliiona
they who are accuftonoed to them do not perceive
any thing ridiculous. Nay, were we to lee a fine
lady drelTed according tp the mode ftill extant in
fome old pi&urfs, with her trefles all hanging
aWut her eyes, in diftinA and equal portions^
like a bunch of cUndles, and twifted into a hun*
dred ftrange curls, we Ihould certainly think her
a laughable phenomenon ; though the fame objedt
two centuries ago would have been gazed at with
admiration and delight. There are few incon-
gruities to which cuftom will not reconcile us *•
Nay,
* In the age of James the FIrft, when fafliion had confer
crated the Pun and Paronomafia, the hearers of a quibbling
preacher, were, I doubt not, both attentive and knoxni as
the Qoiverfal prevalence of witticifm^ even cm folemn occafionsi '
would aimofl annihilate its ludicrous ejffeA. But it.may be
doubted, whether any audience in Great Britain would now
maintain their gravity, if they were to be entertained with fuch
a fermon, as ZultorCs Caution for the Credulous | froQi wbich^
for the reader's amufemeat^ I tranfcribe the following paftages :
— " H«r«
Cc
386 ON LAUGHTER AND
Nay, fo wonderfully duftilc is the tafte of forae
people, that, in the various revolutions of fafhion,
they find the fame thing charming while in vogue,
which when obfolete is altogether frigbtfuL — —
Incongruity,^ therefore, in order to be ludicrous,
muft be in fomc meafure uncommon.
To this it will be objeded, that thofe ludicrous
paiTages in books, that have been many times
laughed at by the fame perfon, do not entirly lofe
their efFeft by the frequency of their appearance.
But many things concur to perpetuate the agree-
able effedt of thofe paflages. We forget them in
tlie intervals of reading, and thus they often be-
come almoft new to us : when we read them a
fecond or third time, the remembrance of the
former-cmdtion may ferve to heighten the prefent;
— *' Here I have undtrtahn one who hath ihvertaken many, a
*< Machiwuillian (or rather a maicble/s viilatH), one that pro-
** fefTeth himfelf to be a friend, when he is indeed a fitnd. —
** His greateft amity is but diflembled enmity, — His Ave threat-
^* ens Tivas and therefore liilen not to his treacherous A*ve^
*' but hearken unto Solomon's Cave ; and though he fpeakech
<' favourably, believe him not. — Though I call him but sl plain
" flatterer (for 1 mean to deal very plainly with him), fome
•' compare him to a devil. If he be one, thefe words of
** Solomon are z /pell to expel this devil. — Wring not my
«* words, to <wrong my meaning ; I go not aboat to crucifie
'* thcy&»/, but t\itjins of men. — Some flatter a man for their
** own private benefit : — this man's, heart thou haft in thy
" pocket; for if thou Jind in thy purfe to give him prcfently,
** he mWfindin his heart to love thee cverlaftingly,'* A Caw
ficn for the Credulous. By Edw, Sultan, Preacher, quarto,
tp»^ !• Aberdeen printed^ 1629. Edinburgh reprinted, 1 696.
when
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 387
whten we read them in company, or hear them
read, our emotions are enforced by fympathy;'
and all this while the wic or humour remains the
fame unimpaired and unafFefted by accidental ajSb-
ciations. Whereas^ on the other handj there are
circumftances that tend in time to obliterate, or at
lead to foften, what at firft might feem ridiculous
in modes of converfation or drefs. For things
are not always agreeable or difagreeabie in pro-
portion to their intrinfic beauty or deformity;
much will depend on extraneous and accidental
connedions : and, as men who live in fociety do
daily acquire new companiops, by whom .their
manners are in fome degree tindtured ; fo what-
ever is driven about in the tide of human affairs is
daily made a part of fome new affemblage, and
daily contrads new qualities from thofe things
that chance aflbciates with it. A vaft periwig is
in itfclf perhaps fomewhat ridiculous; but the
pcrfon who wears it may be a venerable character.
Thefe two objects, being conftantly united, derive
new qualities from each other : the wig may at
firft raife a fmilc at the expcnce of the wearer, but
the wearer will at laft render even his wig refpeft-
able. The fine lady may have a thoufand charms,
every one of which is more than fufficient to make
us fond of the little irregularities of her temper,
and much more to reconcile us to any awkward
difpofition of her ringlets or appareU And the
fine gentleman, whofe hair in its oecohomy fo
C c 2 little
388 ON LAUGHTER AND
Kttlc rcfcmblcs that of Mikon*s Adam *, may he^
what no ungracefulncfs o( Ihape or feature wiM
ever expofe to ridicule, a faithful friend, a valiant
foldier, an agreeable companion, or a dutiful 6m*
Our natural love of fociety^ the various and fub-
fiantial pleafures we derive from that fource, and
our proncneis to imitation, not to mention the
power of cuftoni, fo^i reconcile us to the man^
ners of thofc with whom we live j and therefore
cannot fail to recommend their external a^^ar-
ance.
, All the nations in Europe, and perhaps all the
nations on earth, are, in ibme particulars of drefs
ov deportment, mutualljr ridiculous to one ano?
ther V and to the vulgar of each nation, or to
thofe who have never been from home, nor c^-^
verfed with ftrai^gers^ the peculiarities of foreign
behaviour are moft apt to appear ludicrous. Per^
fbns who, by travel or extenfive acquaintance, iare
become familiar with foreign manners, fee no*
thing ridiculous in then^ : and it is therefore rea«
fbnabk, that a difpofobii to laugh at the dre&
and gcftures of a ftranger (provided thefe be un*
a(fe£ted on his part) ihould be taken for a mark
of rufticitjr, as well as of ill-nature. Tragedies^
written in rhime, or pronounced in Recitative
may be thought ridiculous, when* one has feeft
♦ «»..««« hyacinthin locks
Round from his parts(j Tordock msknly hu«g ^
Clitderingy. bat not beneath his flioulders broad.
FaradifiLofi, book if.
8 but
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 389
but litde of them -, but it is cafy to give a reafoii
why they (hould be highly and feripufly interefting
in France and Italy. They cannot be ludicrous*
that muft, on the contrary, be the objeft of ad-
miration, to which we have been accuftomed to
annex ideas of feftivity and leifure, of beauty and
magnificence, which we have always heard fpoken
of as a matce'r of univerfal concern, and with
which from our infancy we have been acquainted.
May we not, then, fct it down, as a charader
of Ludicrous abfurdity, that it is in fome degree
^ew and furpifing ? WItticifms that appear to be
ftudied give offence, inftead of entertainment:
and nothing (tts off a merry tale to fo great ad-
vantage as an unpromifing fimplicity of ftyle and
manner. By virtue of this negative accomplifli-
fUent, men of moderate talents have been known
10 contribute more to the mirth of the company,
thaa thofe could ever do, who, with fuperior
powers of genius, were more artful in their lan-
guage, and more animated in their pronunciaciofi.
Comrifenefs, too, when we intend a laughable
concluGon, is an efiential requifite in teliing a
itory ; nor fhould any man attempt to be difFufe
in humorous nai*rative, but he whafe wit and elo-
quence arc very great. A joke is always the
worfe for being expefted : the longer it is with-
held after we are mad€ to look for it, the mor^
will Us volatile fpirit lofe by evaporation. The
greateft malterpieces in ludicrous writing would
Jjecomc infipid, if too frequently perufed 5 decies
C c 3 repetita
390 ON LAUGHTER AND
repetita placehif is a charadl^r that belongs to fcMf
of them : and I believe every admirer of Cer.-
vante^ and Fielding would purchafe at a confiderr
able price the pleafi^re of reading Tom Jones and
Don Quixote for the firft tinie. It is true, a good
comedy, well performed, may entertain the fame
ptrfon for niany fuccefljve evenings y but fome
varieties are always expefted, and do generally
take place, in each new reprefentation 5 an(i
though the wit and the bufincfs pf every fcene
(hould come at laft to be diftin<5lly remcmberecj,
there will ftill be fomething in the art of the player,
which one would wi(h to fee repeated.
II. But as every furprifing incongruity is not
ludicrous, we mull purfue our fpecqlatjons a little
further.
I. A more ftriking abfurdity there is not in the
whole univerfe, than a vicious man. His frame
tnd faculties are human: his moral nature, origi-
nally inclined to reftitude, is fadly perverted, and
applied to purpofes not lefs unfuitable to humanity,
than dancing is to a bear, or a fword and fnuflf-
box to a monkey. He judges of things, not by
their proper ftandard, nor as they are in them-
felve$, but as they appear through the n^ediunx
of his own variable and artificial appetites ; as
the clown is faid to have applied his. candle
to the fun dial to fee how the night went. He
overlooks and Ipfes real good, ia .order to
attain that of which he knows not whether
^t be good, or whether it be attainable ; like
the
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 391
the dog in the fable, lofing the fubftance by.
catching at a (hadow. He juftifies his condu£l to
his oWn mind, by arguments whereof he fees the .
fallacy; like the thief endeavouring to enrich
himfeif by dealing out of his own pocket. He
purpofes to take up and reform, whenever his ap-
petites are fully gratified; like the ruftic, whofc
plan was, to wait till the water of the river ftiould
run by, and then pafs over dry-Ihod. He at-
tempts what is .beyond his reach, and is ruined by
the attempt ; like the frog that burft by endea-
vouring to blow herfelf up to the fize of an ox.
In a word, more blunders and abfurdities, than
ever the imitators of Sfop afcribed to the beafts»
or Joe Millar to the Scots and Irilh, might eafily
be traced out in the condu6t of the wicked man-
And yet Vice, however it v[\zs furprife by its no-
velty or enormity, is by no means an objedt of
laughter, even to thofe who perceive in it all the
abfurdities I have fpecified. We pity, and in
feme cafes we abhor, the perpetrator; but our
mind muft be depraved like his own, if we laugh
at him.
But can pity, adhorrence, and rifibility, be
excited by the fame objeft, and at the fame time ?
Can the painful pafllons of hatred and horror, and
the pleafurable feeling that accompanies laughter,
cxift at one and the fame inftant in a well-informed
mind ? Can that amufe and delight us by its ab-
furdity, which our moral principle, armed with
the authority of Heaven, declares to be (hame-
C c 4 .. ful.
^» ON LAUGHTER ANI>
fuU and worthy of punilhment ? It is knpoflible :
efiiotions, fo different in their niiture, and fo un^
equal in powcr^ catinot dwell together; the
weaker muft give place to the ftronger. And
which is the weaker? moral difapprobation, or
the ludicrous fentiment ? Are the pleafures of wic
and hun[K)ur a fufiicient coimterpoife to ^he pangs,
of a wounded fpirit? Are a jeft and generous
adiioA equally reQ^^fbeble ? In afflidion, in Tick-
nefs) at the hour of death, which is the better
coipforter^ an approving confi^ience, or a buffoon ^
the remembrance of a well-fpent life, or of our
connexions with a witty fociety ? The glow-worm
and the fun are not lefs fofcepcibie of ^omp^rifon.
It would feem then, that tbofe abfurdities in our*
felves qr others, which provoke the difapproba-
tion of the moraj faculty, cannot be ludicrous 3^
becaufe in % lound mind they give n(e to emo^
tions inconfiftent with, and far more powerful
than, that whereof l^vghter ;s the outward indi-»
cation.
But what do you fay of thofe Comedies and
$aHreSy which put us out of conceit with our
vices, by expofing them to laughter ? Such per^
formances, furely, cannot be ^U unnatural 4 and
if they are not, may not vice be made a ludiiipHis
cbjefi; ?--r-Our follies, and vices of lefs enprmity,
inay^ I f^x^^y be exhibited in very laughable
colours ; and if we <^an t^ prevailed on to fee
them in a ri4kuhus light, that is, both to kugb §t
^n^ P M^fi them, ov(r refornution may be pie.
LUDICROUS, COMPOSITION. 393
fumed to be in fome forwardnefs : atid hence the
utiticy of ridicule^ as an inftrument of moral cuU
ture. But if we only lau^b at our faults, without
defpijifig them» that is, if they appear ludicrous
only, and not ridiculbus^ it is to be feared, that
we fhall be more inclined to love than to hate
them ; and hence the imperfeftion of thofc writ-
ings, in which human follies are made the fubjcft
of mere pleafantry and amufement. I cannot ad-
mit, that to a found mind undifguiied immorality
can ever ceafe to be difguftful ; though I allow,
that the guilty perfon may poflefs qualities fuifi-
cient to render him agreeable upon the whole.
This indeed happens too often in life ; and it is
this that makes bad company fo fatally cnfnaring.
This too, the Comic Mufc, laying afidc the cha-
rader of a moralift, and afluming that of a pia>p»
has too often introduced upon the ftagc. But,
however profligate a poet may be, we are not to
fuppofe, that downright wicked nefs can ever ia
itfelf be a laughable objed to any decent affembly
of rational beings. Tne Provoked Wifey the Old
Bachelor^ the Beggar's Opera^ are dangerous plays,
no doubt, and fcandalouQy immoral; but it is
the wit and the humour, not the villany, of Brute,
Belmour, and Machcath, that makes the audi-
ence merry •, and Vanburgh, Congreve, and Gay,,
are blameable, not becaufe they have made beaft-
linefs, robbery^ lying, and adultery, ludicrous,
(for that I believe was not in their power), but be-
f aufe th^y »dorn their rcfpcdive reprobates with
engaging
394 ON LAUGHTER AND
engaging qualities to feduce others into imitation.
— ^But may not criminal adventures be fo difguifed
and mifreprefented, as to extort a fmile even from
a man .of good principles ? This may be, no
doubt; for, as the forms of falfehood are infinite,
it is not eafy to fay, how many ftrange things may
be cfFedted by mifreprefentation. While the
moral faculty is inaftive or neuter, the ludicrous
fentiment may operate; but tohaveajuft fenfe
of the enormity of a crime, and at the fame time
to laugh at it, feems impofTible, or at lead unna-
tural : and therefore, we may venture to repeat,
that^ moral difapprobation is a more powerful
emotion than laughter-, and ' confequently, that
both, as their natures are inconfiftent, cannot at
the fame time prevail in a well-informed mind.
" They are fools who laugh at fin i" and, what-
ever may be the praftice of profligates, or of good
men under the influence of a temporary infatua-
tion, the common feelings of mankind do not
warrant fo grofs an impropriety.
As to Satire^ we muft obferve, that it is of t>yo
forts, the Comic and the Serious; that human
foibles are the proper objefts of the former, and
vices and crimes of the latter ; and that it ought
to be the aim of the fatirift to make thofe ridi-
culous, and thefe deteftable. I know not how it
comes to pafs, that the Comic Satire fhould be fo
much ia vogue ; but I find that the generality of
critics are all for the moderation and fmiling
graces of the courtly Horace, and exclaim againft
. I ■ the
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION, 395
the vehemence and vindidive zeal of the unmanncr-
Jy Juycnal. They may as well blame Sophocles
for not adopting the ftyle of Ariftopbanes, and
infift that Cicero ihould have arraigned Verres in
the language of Anacreon. Nor do Horace and
Juvenal admit of comparifon in this refped*;
any more than a chapter of the Taje of a Tube
can be compared with one of the Saturday papers
in the Spe&ator. Thefe poets had different views,
and took different fubjefts •, and therefore it was
right that there ihould be a difference in their
manner of writing. Had Juvenal made a jeft of
the crimes of his contemporaries, all the world
would have called him a bad writer and a bad man.
.And had Horace, with the feverity of Juvenal,
attacked the impertinence of coxcombs, the pe-
dantry of the Stoics, the faftidioufnefs of luxury,
and the folly of avarice, he would have proved
himfelf ignorant of the nature of things, and even
of the meaning of his own precept:
Adfit
Regula, peccatis quse paenas irroget sequas,
Ne fcutica dignum horribili fe£lere flagellof.
♦ Nor indeed in any refpea, DifFerent in their viewf, and
in their fubjeas, they differ no lefs in ftyle. That of Hbrace
(in his fatires) is indeed fuperlativcly elegant, but eafy, famU
liar, and apparently artlefs. The flyle of Juvenal is elabo-
rate, harnionioas, vehement, poetic<il, and often fublimc,
f Let rules be fixM that may our rage contain,
And puniih faults with a proportioned pain :
And do not flay him, who deferves alone
A whipping for the fault that he has done. Creech*
That
,396 OK LAUGHTER AND
Tfc»t neither Horace Her Juvenal ever endcavoufcd
to make us laugh at crimcSi I will not affirm y
but for every indifcretion of this kind they are to
be coodesi4fied, not imka^. And this is net the
general charadier of their fatire* Horace laughed
.at the follies and foibles of mankind ; fo far he
did well. But J»venal (if his indecencies hafd
died with biiy^ielf ) mighty as a moral iatirift, be
bid to have done better.^ Fired with* honeft in-
dignation at the unexampled degeneracy of Im
age ^ and, difdaining chat tamenefs of expreffion
aiod fervility of fentrnvsnt, which in fome cafes are
infallible marks of a daftardiy foul, he dragged
Vice from the bower of pkafure and from the
throne of empire, and exhibited her to the world,
not in a ludicrous attitude, but in her genuine
form ; a form of fuch loathfome uglinefs, and
hideous diftordxHi,. as cannot be viewed without
hprxor*
I repeat therefore, that wickednefs is no objeft
of laughter i the difapprobation of confcience,
and the ludicrous fentiment, being cmotio^is in-
confillent in their nature, and very unequal in
power. In fad:^ the latter emotion is generally
weak, and never (hould be ftrong; while the
former in every mind ought to be, and in ev-eiry
found mind is, the moft powerful principle of the
human conftitution.
2. Further : When facred things are profaned
by meannefs of allufion and language, the incon-
gruity will not force a fmile from a well difpofed
perfon,
y
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 3^97
perfon, except ic Airprife faicn in an unguarded
moment. \ could quote^ fronfi Blackmore and
Itutherfotxl, thoughts as incongruous as any that
ever difgraced literature, but which are coo (hock*-
ing to raife any other emotions than horror and
indignation. From an author far fiK>re reaped*
able I (hall give one inftance, to (how how debas-
ing it is, even to a great genius^ to become a
flatterer.
Falfc heroes, made by flattery io^
Heaven can ilrike out, like fparkks, at a blow^
Sut, ere a princt is to perfedion brought.
He cofts Omipotence a jbcond thought :
With tcMl and fweat,
With hardening cold and forming heat.
The Cyclops did their work repeat.
Before th* impenetrable Ihield was wrought, &c. ♦
Anger too is generally, while it lads, a preferva-
tive againft rifible impreflions \ whence great
laughers are fuppofed to be good-natured. White
all England laughed at the heroes of the Dunciad^
CoUcy Cibber and his brethren were, I dare fay,
very ferious. And if the gravity of Edmund
Curll was overcome by that " account of his
" poifoning," which no other perfon*s gravity
could ever withftand, he muft have poflcfled a
great deal of philofophy or of infenfibility. So-
crates, in the Athenian theatre, joining in the
laugh that Ariftophanes had raifed againft him,
is fpoken of by old authors as a fingular inftance
♦ Dryden's Thicaodia A4Jg«ftali?. * .
398 ON LAUGHTER AND
of felfcommand: which I mention, not with a
view to compare the fage with the bookfeller, but
to (how, that anger and laughter were fuppofed
to have the fame influence on each other two
ihoufand years ago, which they are found to have
at this prefent time.
* 3. Even pity atone is, for the moft part, of
power fufficient to controul rifibility. To one
who could diveft himfelf of that affeftion, a
wooden leg might perhaps appear ludicrous ; from
the ftriking contrail of incongruity and fimilitude;
—•and in fa£t we find that Butler has made both
himfelf and his readers merry with an implement
of this fore that pertained to the expert Crowdcro 5
and that SmoUct has taken the fame freedom, for
the fame purpofe, with his friend Lieutenant
Hatchway. But he who forgets humanity fo far
as to fmile at fuch a memorial of misfortune in a
living perfon, will be blamed by every good man.
We expeft; becaufe from experience we know it
is natural, that pity (hould prevail over the ludi-
crous emotion,
*' Many a Scotch Prefbyterian (fays' Hutchefon,
** in his Reflexions upon Laughter) has been put to
*' it to preferve his gravity, upon hearing the ap-
*' plication of Scripture made by his countryman
*^ Dr. Pitcairn, as he obferved a croud in the
** ftreets about a mafon, who had fallen along
** with his fcafFold, and was overwhelmed with
." the ruins of the chimney which he had been
^ building, and which* fell immediately after the
" fall
r
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 399
** fall of the poor mafon : Bleffcd arc the dead
" which die in the Lord, for they reft from their
** labours, and their works follow them." — For
the honour of the learned phyfician's memory, I
hope the ftory is not true. Such wantonnefs of
fmpiety, and fuch barbarity of infulr, js no objeft
of laughter, but of horror. And I confcfs, I
fliould have no good opinion of any Prelbyterian^
or of any perfon, who could find it difficult ta
prcferve his gravity on hearing it.
4. Fear is a paflion, which would I think oa
almoft any occafion reprefs laughter. To conceal
one's fear, one might feign a laugh; and an/
paflion hi extreme may produce a fimilar convuU
fion; but nobody laughs at that which makes
him ferioufly afraid, however incongruous its ap-
pearance may be. A friend of mine dreamed that
hefaw the devil, and awoke in a great fright. He
defcribcd the phantafm very minutely ; and fure a
more ridiculous one was never imagined; but,
inftead of laughter; his countenance betrayed
every fymptom of horror ; for the dream had
made a ftrong impreffion, nor could he for many
months think of it without uneafinefs. It is
ftrange, that the common people, who are fo
much afraid of the devil, fhould fancy him to be
of a ludicrous figure, with horns, a tail, and
cloven feet, united to the human form. Sir
Thomas Brown, with no little plaufibility, derives
this conceit from the Rabbins *« But the Ro*
* Pfeadodoxia Epldemlca* book 5. chap. 21;
mans.
40O ON LAUGHTER AND
mans^ from their afcribing unaccountable fear to
the agency of Pan, whofe fuppofed figure w^ th<r
fame, appear to have been pofiefled with a fi-
milar fuperftitioh, in whatever wajr they came by
it. Satyrs, however, were believed to be merry
beings; always piping and dancing, and frifk*
ing about, cracking their jokes, and throwing
themfelves into antic attitudes ; and indeed when
they are introduced in a pidure, they generally
convey fomewhat of a ludicrous impreflTion, as
the fight of fuch an animal, fuppofed to be harm-
lefs, could hardly fail to do.
III. Good-breeding lays many reftraints upon
laughter, and upon all other emotions that^dif-
play themfelves externally. And this leads mc
to fpeak of thofe refinements in wic and humour,
which take place in fociety, according as mankind
improve in polite behaviour.
Lord Froth in the play called the Double
Dealer*, and Lord Chcftcrfield, in a book of
letters which forte think might have borne the
fame appellation, declaim vehemently againft
laughter: — " There is nothing more unbecom-
** ing a perfon of quality, than to laugh 5 'tis
•* fuch a vulgar thing 5 every body can laugh.'*
Influenced by a dodrine of fo high authority,
many of my readers may, I am afraid, have been
inclined to think hardly of me, for analyfing vul-
gar witicifms, and inquiring into the nature of a
phenomenon, which can no longer (how its face
* Ad I . fcene 4.
in
LUDlCftOUS COMPOSITION. 4ot
in genteel company. And therefore it may be pro-
per for me to fay a word or two in defence, firft
of myfelf, and fecondly of my fvibjeft.
In behalf of myfelf I can only plead, that
L^ughter^ however unfalhionable, is a real and ^
natural expveflion of a certain human emotion, or
iDward feelings and Kas been fo, for any thing I
know to the contrary, ever fincc the days of Adam j
that therefore it is as liable to the cognizance of
philolbphy as any other natural fad ; and that
we are to judge of it, rather from its unreftrain-
cd Mergics, than from the appearances it may
afliwe under the control of aSedation or delica-
cy. The foot of a Chinefe beauty is whiter, no
doubt, and prettier, than that of a Scotch high-
lander^ yet I would advifethofe who are curious
to know the parts and proportions of that limb,
to contemplate the clown rather than the lady.
To be matter of one^s own temper, is a moft
defirable thing; and much more pleafant it is,
to live with fuch as are fo, than among thofe who,
•without caution or difguife, fpeak, and look, and
a6t, according to the impulfe of paflion : but the
philofopher who-would analyfe anger, pride, jea-
loufy, or any other violent emotion, will do well
to take its phenomena rather from the latter than
from the former. Juft fp, in tracing out the
caufe of laughter, I did not think it neceflary or
expedient to confine my obfervation to thofe plca-
fantries which the fentimental critic would ho-
nour with a fimper : it fuited my purpofc better
to attend to examples, which, whether really
D d laughed
402 ON LAUGHTER AND
laughed at or no, the generality of mankind would
acknowledge to be laughable.
That all men are not in the fame degree in-
clined to laughter •, and that fome may be found,
who rarely indulge in it themfelves, and aftuallf
diflike it in others, cannot be denied. But they
are miftaken, who fuppofe this charafber to be
the efFeft of good-breeding, or peculiar to high
life. In the cottage you will find it, as well as in
the drawing room. Nor is profufe laught^t pc»
culiar to low life : it is a weaknefs incident qo all
ftations ; though I believe, that among the ivifer
fort, both of clowns and of quality, it may be
lefs common.
But the prefent inquiry does not fo mudi regard
laughter itfelf, as that pleafurable emotion or
fentiment, whereof laughter is the outward fign,
and which may be intenfcly felt by thofe who do
not laugh at all ; even as the perfon who never
weeps may yet be very tender hearted. Nay as
the keeneft and moft rational forrow is not the
' moft apt to cxprefs itfelf in tears ; fo the moft
admirable performances in wit and humour are
not perhaps the moft laughable ; admiration
being one of thofe powerful emotions that en-
grofs the whole foul, and fufpend the exercife of
its faculties. — And therefore, whatever judgment
the reader may have formed concerning the law-
fulnefs, expediency, or propriety, of this vifible
and audible convulfion called Laughter ; my ac-
count of the caufe of that internal eniotion which
4 &V€S
LU£)ICROtJS COM]?OSITION. 463
gives rife to it, may be allowed to be pardonable^
if it fhall be found to be juft. Nor does Lord
Chcftcrfield, as [ rcmtritibek', dbjeft to this emo-i
tion, nor to a fmile as th6 outward cxprcffion of
it, fo long as the faid fmile rs not fufFeired to dc-^
generate into an open laugh.
Good-breeding is the art of pleafing thofe with
whom we convcrfe. Now we cannot pleafe
others, if we either (how them what is unpleaGng
in'ourfelves, or give them reafon to think that we
perceive what is unpleafing in them. Every
emotion, therefore, that would naturally arife
from bad qualities in lis, or from the view o( them
in others, and all thofe emotions in general
which our company nlay think too violent^
and cannot fympathife with, nor partake in>
good-breeding requires that we fupprefs, . Laugh-
ter, which is either too profufe or too obftrepe-
rous, is an emotion of this kind : and therefore^
a man of breeding will be careful not to laugh
much longer, or much oftener than others ; nor
to laugh at all, except where it is probable, that
the jeft may be equally relifhed by the company^
— Thefc, and other reftraints peculiar to poliflicd
life, have, by fome writers, been reprcfentcd as
produdbive of fraud, hypocrify, and a thoufand
other crimes, from which the honeft, open, un-
defigning favage is fuppofed to' be free, But^
were this a fit place for dating the comparifon,
we could prove, that the reftraints of good-breed-
ing render focicty comfortable, and, by fuppref-
D d a (ins
404 ON LAUGHTER AND
fing the outward energy of intemperate paflibnar^
tend not a little to fupprefs tbofe paflions them^
felves : while the unbridled liberty of favage life
gives full play to every turbulent emotion, keeps
the mind in continual uproar^ and difqualiSes it
for thofe improvements and calm delights, that
refult from the excrcife of the rational and moral
faculties^
But to return. The nwre we are accuftomed
to any fet of objefts, the greater delicacy of dif-
cernment we acquire in comparing them toge-
ther, and eftimating their degree of excellence.
By ftudying many piftures, one may become a
judge of painting ^ by attending to the ornaments
and proportions of many buildings, one ac^uires^
a tafte in Architedure ; by praftifing mufic, we
improve our fcnfe of harmony ; by reading many
poems, we learn to diilinguilh the good from the
bad. In like manner, by being convcrfant in
works of wit and humour, and by joining in po-
lite converfation, we refine our tafte in ridicule^
and come to undervalue thofe homelier jokes that
entertain the vulgar. What improves individuals
will in time improve nations^ Plautus abounds
in pleafantries that were the delight of his own-
and of the following age, but which, at the di-
ftance of one hundred and fifty years, Horace
fcruples not to ccnfure for therr inurbanity*.
And we find not a few even in Shakefpeare (not-
withftanding the great fuperiority of his genius),
• Hor. Ar. Poet, verf, 270—275.
at
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 405
at which a critic of thefe days would be lefs in-
•clincd to laugh, than to (hake his head. Nay, in
the time pf Charles the Second, many things paff-
•ed upon the Englilh ftage for excellent humour^
which would now be intolerable. And thus it is,
that we are enabled to judge of the politencfs of
nations, from the delicacy of their comic writers^
.and of* the breeding and literature of individual
^Inen, from their turn of humour, from their fa-
vourite jokes and ftories, and from the very
found, duration, and frequency, of their laugh-
ter.
The converfation of the common people^
though not fo fmooth, nor fo pleafing, as that of
the better fort, has more of the wiidnefs and
ilrong expreffion of nature. The common people
fpeak and look what they think, bluftcr and
threaten when they are angry, affcdt no fympa-
thies which they do not feel, and when offended
are at no pains to conceal their ^iflatisfadion.
Tiiey laugh when they perceive any thing ludi-
crous, without much deference to their company^
and, having little reliih for delicate humour, be-
caufe they have been but little ufed to it, they
amufe tfaemfelv«s with fuchpleafantry as in the
higher ranks of life would offend by its homdi-
nefs. Yet may it be ludicrous notwithftandingi:
as tfaofe paffions in a clown or fayage may be na-
tural, which in the polite world inen are very cate-
iul to fupprefs.
IV, Tropes and Figures introduce intoferiou«
writing a variety of difproportion^e images.;
Dd 3 which
406 ON LAUGHTER AND
which however do not provoke laughter, wh^n
they are fo contrived as to raife fome other cmo^
tion of greater authority. To illuftrate this by cx-»
amples taken from every fpecies of trope and
figure; is not neceflary, and would be tedious.
I (hall confine my remarks to the Similitude or
Comparifon; which is a very common figure,
and contributes, mor^ perhaps than any other^
;o render language epphatical, pidurefque, and
afi^efting to the fancy.
Every Similitude implies two things ; the idea
to be illuftrated, which I call the principal idea \
and the objeft alluded to, for the purpofe of il*
luftration. Now if between thefe two there be a
ponfiderable inequality j if the one be mean and
the other dignified, or if the one be of much grea-
ter dignity than the other; there may bereafon
to apprehend (fuppofing our theory juft), that,
by their appearing in one aflemblage, a mixture
of relation and contrariety may be produced, fuf-
ficient to render the comparifon ludicrous ; — of
relation arifing from the likenefs, — of contrariety,
arifing from the difproportion. And that this is
often the cafe, we have feen already. But when
Homer compares a great army to a flight of
cranes, Hedor ta a rock, Ajax to an afs, and
Ulyffes covered with leaves to a bit of live coal
raked up among embers, the fimilitudes, for all
their incongruity, are quite ferious ; at leaft they
convey no rifible impreflion to a reader of tafte
^hcn perufing the poern. 9y attending a little
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 407
to this matter, we (hall perhaps be able to throw
new light on our argument.
Similitudes, ranged according to their con-
nedtion with the prcfcnt fubjeft, are diflinguilh-
able into three clafles. i. One fublime or dig-
niBed objcft may be likened to another that is
more fublime, or more dignified. 2. An objeft
comparatively mean may be likened to one that
is fublime. 3. An objedt comparatively fublime
may be likened to one that is mean.
!• If one great or dignified objedt is likened
to another that is greater or more dignified, as
when Homer compares Achilles in arms to the
moon, to a comet, to the fun, and to a god *, our
admiration is heightened, and the principal idea
improved, by the comparifon. But that which
we greatly admire we feldom laugh at in any cir-
cumftances, and perhaps, never, when, together
with admiration, it infufes into the foul that fwee(
and elevating aftoniftiment which attends the per-
ception of thofe objefts or ideas that we denomi-
nate fublime. The emotion infpired by the view
of fublimity is alfo in itfelf more powerful than
that which gives rife to laughter ; at leaft in all
minds that are not weak by nature, nor depraved
by habit. No perfon of a found mind ever
laughed the firft time he raifed his eyes to con»
template the infide of St. Paul's cupola : nor, if\
performing any of tKe folemn offices of his func-
tion, would a judge, a magiftrate, Qv. ^ clergy-,
♦ Iliad, xix.
D d 4 man.
4&S ON LAUGHTER AND
man, be cxcufed, if he vicre to give way to
laughter. In vain would he pkad, that his mind
was at that moment ftruck with a ludicrous con-
ceit, or with the recolkdion of a, merry ftory :
we fhould fay, that thoughts of ^ higher nature
pugbt to have reftratned him ^ an idea which
would not occur to us, if we wf^te not coiifciotis
of the natural fubordination of the rifible pro-
penfity. — 'An objeft not abfolutely mean is ren-
dered fublime in fame degree, by being aflbciat-
cd with a fublime idea. A f^brocb ♦, which in
every other country would appear d jumble of
unmeaning founds, may give tranfport and eleva**
tion to a highlander of Scotland ; not fo much
becaufc he underftands its melody, as becaufe it
Conveys to his mind the fublime ideas of danger,
^nd courage, and armies, and military fervice.
* And let me take this opportunity to obferve,
that, in like manner, a thing not ludicrous in
itfelf may occafion laughter, when it fuggeft^
♦ A ^iiroci 18 a fpecies of tunc ptrculiar, I think, to the
liighlands and weftern ifles of Scotland. It is performed oa
a bagpipe* and differs totally froni all other rnufic, It^
rhythm is fo irregular, aud it$ notes, efpecially in the quick
jtiovementy fo mixed and huddled together, that a ilranger
Irnds it almoil impoflible to reconcile his ear to it, fo as tQ
perceive its modulation. Some of $befe Pibrpchs, being in-
tended to reprefent a battle, begin with a grave motion ie«r
fembling a march ; then gradually quicken ioto the onfec ; ran
off with noify confution, and turbulent rapidity, to imitate the
confii^ and purfoit j then fwcH into a few Hourfflies of trium-
phant joy ; and perhaps clofe with the wild and ilo^ wailiogt
of f funeral proceiSon,
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 409
any ludicrous idea related to it by cuftom, or by
any other affociating principle. It can hardly be
faid, that the braying of an afs is in itfclf more
ludicrous (though perhaps it may be more dif-
fonant), than the neigh of a horfe ;. yet one may
be inclined to fmile when one hears it, by itt
bringing to mind the other qualities of that Aug-
gi(h animal, with which the wags of both antient
and modern times have often made themfelves
merry. And hence it is, that men of lively fan--
cy, cfpecially if they have been accuftomed to
jattend to the laughable fide of things, are apt
to fmile at that in which others neither perceive,
nor can imagine any thing ridiculous.
2. An objed comparatively mean is often likened
to one that is fublime : in which cafe it may re-
quire great addrefs in the poet to maintain the
majefty of Epic or Didadlid compofition. Simi-
litudes of this kind, if very difproportionate, are
not to be hazarded, while the principal idea re-
tains its primitive meannefs. The poet muft firft
pmploy all his powers of language, to adorn and
dignify it, by interefting the afFcdtions of bia
reader : a branch of the poetic art, which, as I
have elfewhere obfefved *, is univerfal in its ap*
plication, and may give life and pathos to mere
defcriptions of external nature, as well as to the
noblcft efforts of the Epic or Tragic Mufe.
In the art of conferring dignity upon objeds
comparatively piean, Virgil excels all poets
t feAay on Poetry and Mufic, part 1. chap. 3.
whatever;
4IO ON LAUGHTER AND
whatever. By a tendernefs of fentiment irrefiftibly
captivating; by a perpetual feries of the moft
plcaCng, pidurcfque, and romantic imagery ; hy
the moft aflfedling digreflions ; and by a proprie-
ty, beauty, and fweetnefs of language, peculiar
to himfelf, and unattainable by all others ; he.
makes his way to the heart of his readers, what-
ever be the filbjedt: and fo prepares them for
allufions and fimilitudes, which in the hand of
an ordinary poet might appear even ridiculoufly
inadequate; but which, by his management, give
an air of grandeur to the meaneft things dcfcrib-
cd in his divine Georgic. The very moufe that
undermines the threftiing- floor, he renders an
animal of importance. For his bees we are in-
tercfted, as for a commonwealth of reafonable
creatures. He compares them in one place to the
Cyclops forging thunder. Yet, inadequate and
even ludicrous as the comparifon jnuft appear
when it is thus mentioned, it has no fuch effed as.
it appears in the poem. The reader is already
fo prepoffeffed and elevated with thofe ideas of
dignity that adorn the fubjedl, that he is more
dii^ofed to admire, than to laugh or cavil.
Mr. John Philips had a happy talent in the
Mock-Heroic, but was not equally fortunate in
ferious poetry. In his Cydery he endeavours, in
imitation of Virgil, to raife the fubjeft by fublime
alluGons ; but is apt to bring them in abruptly,
and before he has given fufficient importance to
the principal idea. Nor has he any pretenfions
to that fweetnefs and naclody of ftyl?, whic;h in-
toxicate
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 411
toxicate the regders of the Mantuan poet, and
prepare them for any impreiTion he is pleafed to
convey. And hence the language of Philips
often takes the appearance of bombaft ; and fomc
of his comparifons, inftead of railing admiration
by their greatnefs, tend rather to provoke a fmile
by their incongruity.
The apple's outward form
Delegable the witlefs fwain beguiles.
Till, with a writhen mouth and fpattering noi(c.
He tafles the bitter morfel, and rejefts
Difrelifli'd. Not with lefs furprife, than when
Embattled troops with flowing banners pafs
Through flowery meads delighted, nor diftrufi:
The fmiling furface ; whilfl: the cavern*d ground.
With grain incentive ftored, by fudden blaze
Burfts fatal, and involves the hopes of war
In fiery whirls 5 full of viiSlorious thoughts.
Torn and difmember'd, they aloft expire.
Had Virgil been to dignify this furprife by a
magnificent allufion, he would not have degrad-
ed the principal ide^ by low images (like thofe
.fignified by the words writhen mouth * and fpat*
tering noife) ; but would have employed all his
art to raife it to fuch elevation as might make
the difproportionate greatnefs of the objeft al-
• This very nurithen meutk feems to be an allufion to Virgil ;
At (apor indicium faciet manifellus, et era
Tfidia tcntantum fcnfu torquebit amaro. Georg, ii. 247*
but it is to a part of Virgil, where £mplicity is more fludied
t^x^ elevation.
luded
4ia ON LAUGHTER AND
hided tokfs obfervable *. Thomfon has imitated
VirgtPs manner with much better (kill, in that
beautiful paflage of his Aotdmn -f, too Jong fof
a quotation, where he compares a hive of bees
fufFocatcd with hrimftone to a city fwallowed up
by an earthquake.
In the Mock-Epic, where ridicule is often rai-
fcd by exaggerating fimilitudes, care is taken to
introduce 'the pompous comparifon, while the
principal idea appears in all its native infigni-
ficance ^ and fomecimes the ridicule is heighten-
ed by a da(h of bombaft', or by a trifling circum-
fiance unexpcftedly introduced in the middle of
affeded folemnity J.
But, in judging of fimilitudes ' in all ferious
writing, it is neceflary to attend to the point of
likenefs on which the comparifon turns : for two
things may refemble each other in one particular^
* In the third Georgic, Virgil, fpeakiDg of the method of
training deers to the plough and w.a^goa, is at pains to dig-
•nify the fubjed by elegant language ; but his figures are ap^o«
£te, and not at all too lofty for the occaiion :
Tq quo8 ^^fiudium atque ufum formabis agredem
Jam vrtulos bertare, virimqne indfle domandl,
I>iun faciles animi ju^venum^ dtnn mobilia azifts, &c»
Dryden, in his irflnflaiion, wonts to rife to hijg^er eiegaiKe by
means o^ bolder figures, whch, however, being ill- chofen au^
ill*prepa<edy give a ludicrous air to the whole paifage. Be
fpeaks o^ fending tie talfio /clnoly of forming his mind with
moral precept $, ;and indrudling him in huibandry before he is
perVerted b bad epcamjde.
f Autumn, ver. 1 1 70.
% See Rape of the Lock, v. 40—52; and Dunciad 11. 181.
9 which
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 41J
which in aU others are very unlike ^ and therefon^
g fimilicude imy, to an inattentive reader, appear
incdngpuom, which is really proper and adequate.
Tbofe critks who blame Virgil for the fimile of
the Cycl&ps above mentioned, would do well to
confider, that, though there be no refemblance
between a bee and a huge one-eyed giant, in the
fize and frame of their bodies, and a$ little be«
tween their refpeftire employments and manu^
failures, there may, however, be a refemblanc^
between them in other things. The Cyclops are
eager to have the thunderbolt forged ; the bees
may be as eager in their way to fill their cells
with honey : the art of thunder-making employs
a number of hands, each of whom has his parti*
cular department', and this alfo holds true of
bees employed in the bufinefs of the hive. Now
it is on account of their fimilarity in thefe two
refpefts *, that the poet compares them ; and ia
thefe two refpefts they certainly may be compared.
But I allow, that, in ferious writing, a fimilitudc
of this kind ought not to be attempted, but by
an author of the firft rank -, and therefore, though
I vindicate Virgil,! think it extremely hazardous
to imitate him. And I am aware of the truth of
part of the following remark of Pope, which I
quote at length (though fome expreffions in it
do not coincide with the foregoing reafonings),
becaufe it feems to me to throw light on the fub-
jed. « The ufe of the grand ftyle on little fub-
• See Virg. Gcor. iv. 176.
« jeas
414 ON LAUGHTER AND
^ je6ls is not only ludicrous, but a fort of tranf*
^ greffion againft the rules of proportion and
** mechanics: it is ufing a vaft force to lift a
•• feather. I believe it will be found a juft ob-
*^ fervation, that the low adions of life cannot
*< be put into a figurative ftyle without being ri-
** diculous I but things natural can. Metaphors
" raife the latter into dignity, as we fee in the
•* Georgics ; but throw the former into ridicule,
*• as in the Lutrin. I think this may very well
** be accounted for: laughter implies cenfurc;
*^ inanimate and irrational beings are not objefts
" of cenfurc ; and therefore they may be elevated
*' as much as you pleafe, and no ridicule follows :
** but when rational beings are rcprefcnted above
•• their real charafter, it becomes ridiculous in
•' art, bccaufe it is vitious in morality. The bees
•* in Virgil, were they rational beings, would be
•• ridiculous by having their aftions and manners
** reprefented on a level with creatures fo fupe-
•• rior as men; fince it would imply folly or
" pride^ which are the proper objeds of ridi-
*' cule V
3. A fimilitude may imply an incongruous af-
femblage, when an objeft comparatively fublime
is likened to one that is mean. Homer and Vir-
gil compare heroes, not only to beafts, but even
to things inanimate, without raifing a fmile by
the contraft. And the reafon, as given already,
* Pope's Poftfcript to the Odyffey.
is.
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 415
15) that in thefe fimiliuides there is fothething
which cither takes ofF our attention from the in-
congruity, or raifes within us an eniotio'n more
powerful than this of laughter.
Firfty the quality that occafions the comparifon
may be in both objetfts fo iioiilar, and fo ftriking,
as to take ofF our attention from the incongruity
of the aifemblage, or even to remove from the
comparifon, when attentively confidered, every
incongruous appearance. Had Homer likened
Paris to a horfe, becaufe he was good-natured
and docile ; Ajax to an afs^ becaufe he was dull ;
and Achilles to a lion, becaufe of his long yel-
low hair; the allufions might have been Itidi-
crous. But he likens Paris to a pampered horfe*,
becaufe of his wantonnefs, fwiftnefs, and luxu*
rious life ; Ajax to an aft f, becaufe he is faid to
have been as much fuperior to the affault of the
Trojans, as that animal is to the blows of chil-
dren i and Achilles to a lion :]:, on account of
his ftrength, fiercenefs, and impetuofity. Heftor
he compares to a rock tumbling from the top of
a mountain §, becaufe while he moved he was
irreliftible, and when he flopped immoveable;
qualities not more confpicuous in the hero, than
in the ftohe. Milton likens Satan to a whale ||;
not becaufe the one fpouts fait water, as the other
is vulgarly fuppofed to breathe out fulphur and
fire, but becaufe of his enormous fize : and, to
* Iliad, VI.
t Iliad, xi. t Iliad, xx.
§ Iliad, xiii.
II Par, Loft, book i.
kflea
4i6 ON LAUGHTER AND
kfien the iticoi^;roky, if my fhwld be fuppofed
to remaio, the poet is at great pains to raife oiir
idea of the whale's oiagnitude ;
Him haply flumbering on the Norway foam
The pilot of fome fmall night-founder'd fkiff
Deem'ing fome iiland, oft, as feamen tell.
With fixed anchor in his fcaly rhind.
Moors by his fide.
But, fecondlyi it may happen, even in the
higher poetry, that the compared qualities fhall
prcfent an incongruojus aflbciation, to the difad van-
tage of the principal idea. In this cafe, as there
is an oppofition, of greatncfs in the principal
idetf and meannefs in the objeft alluded to, it
will be fomewhat difficult to maihtain true Epic
dignity. It may, however, be done, by blend-
ing with the dcfcription of the mean objcft fome .
interefting circuriiftance, to take off the atten-
tion from the incongruity, and fix it on fomc-
thing important or fcrious. Ulyfles, going to
fleep, covered over with leaves, after fwimming
out naked from a (hipwreck, is compared by
Homer to a bit of live coal preferred by a pea-
fant in a heap of embers :
As fome poor peafant, firted to rcfide
lUtnote from >ieighbours, in a foreft wide,
Stadiojus to fave what human wants require.
In ember* heap'd preferves the feeds of fire ;
Hid in dry foliage thus Ulyfles lies.
Till Pallas pour'd foft flumber on his eyes ♦.
• Odynr. lib. 5.
This
LUDICROUS COMPOSlTIOK. 417
H^kls fimikf when we attend to tht point ei
Irkenefs, will be foand to hav<! fufficienc proprie*
ty ; ithe refemblance beiDg obvious, between a
man akmoft deprived of life^ and a brand aU
moil extingui&ed ; between the foliage that de^
fends Ulyffes from cold» aod probably ffPCQ
death, durmg the nighty and the ensbers that: koc^
alive the feeds of fire : yet if drefied up by 4
genius like Butier, it might aiTun^c a ludi<;rQua
appearance, from the difprc^ortionate nature of
the thi(\gs conf)par^. Buc H<imef, with grea(
delicacy, draws off the reader's attention to the
peafanc's foUtary dwelling on the extrecnicy of a
frontier, where he bad no 'neighbours to aifift
him in renewing his fire, if by any accident it
fhould go out. The poet is lefs delicate on anothei"
occafion, when he likens the fame hero^ toiling
in his bed, and fleeplefs through deiire to be
avenged on the plunderers of his houfehold, to a
man employed ** in broiling on a gfeat fire a.
^^ ftomach full of fat and blood, and often turn-"
^' ing it« becaufe he is impatient to have it
*' roafted *." This image is unpleafing and de-
fpicable; and the comparifon muft appear ridi-
culous to a modern reader i— though Boileau
pleads, that the viand here mentioned was
efteemed a great delicacy by the ancients ; though
Euftathius fecrns te think, that a low fimilitudi^i
might in this place very well fuit the beggarly
condition of Ulyflfes i and though, in the opi-»
• OdyiT. X3ft - .
E e ^ nioii
4i8 ON LAUGHTER AND
nion of MonC Dacier, the bag ftuffed with fat
and blood might, in Plomer's days, convey a fc-.
ligious, and confequently an important, idea.
When the object alluded to is pkafing in icfelf,
and the defcription elegant, we are ape to over*,
look the incongruity of a fimilitude, even where
the difproportion is very great ^ the ludicrous
emotion being as it were fuppreflcd by our ad-
miration of the poetry, or the littknefs of the
obje£): compenfated by its beauty. That famous
paffage in Virgil, in which Amata, roaming up
and down, from the agitation of her mind, and
the impulfe of a demon, is compared to a top
whipped about by boys, has been called fuftian
by fome critics, and burlcfque by others ♦. In
my
* Deniftrius Phtlereut obierves, that '* Elegance of Ian-
." guage, by exciting adoiiiacion, makes the ridiculous difap-,
** pear;" acd adds, '^ that to exprefs a ludicrous ientiinent
** in fine language, is like dreflirg an ape in fine cloaths.
*^* The words of Sappho (coniinues he), when Beauty is her
'*' theme, aie fweet and beautiful'; as in her poems on Love,
** on Air, and on the Halcyon* Indeed all the beauties of
<( largoage, and fonie of them of her o«rn invention, are in-
** terwoven with Sappho's poetry^ But the Ruftic Bridegroom,
** and the Porter at the Wedding, (he has ridiculed in a dif-
• *« ferentfiyle; ufing very me..» expreflioos, and a choice of
** words lefs fuitable to poetry than to proie,'' Dtmtt, Pbal.
<§ 166, 167, 168. — An ape die/Ted in fine cloaths does not
ceafe to be ludicrous : and in the Mock Heroic poem» where
the fabjeft is contemptible or mean, great elegance, or even
magolficence, of didtion, may heighten theridiculie ; ofwhichy
the Lutrin, the Dunciad, the Rape of the Lock, and the
Battle of the Frogs and ^fIce, abound in examples, fiat it
... b
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 419
my opinion it is neither. The propriety in point
of likenefs is undeniable. The object alluded to»
though in icfelf void of dignity, is however plea*
fingj and receives elevation from the poetry,
which is finilhed in Virgil*s beft manner, and is
indeed highly pidturefque, and vefy beautiful *.
What has been faid on the fubjedt of fimili-
tudes, when applied to the prefent purpofe,
amounts to this: '* Incongruity does not appear
•• ludicrous, when it is fo qualified, or circum-
«* ftanced, as to raife in the mind fome emotion
** more powerful than that of Laughter."
V. If, then, it be afked. What is that
QUALITY IN THINGS, WHICH MAKES THEM PRO-
VOKE THAT PLEASING EMOTION OR SENTIMENT
WHEREOF Laughter is the external sign ?
I anfwer. It is an uncommon mixture of re-
lation and contrariety, exhibited, or «up-
is probable, that Demetrias i$ here fpeaking of Bitrle/quit and
that Sappho's poem on the wedding was of that chrraderi— •
fbmething perhaps refembling the Ballad, faid to be written
by ]ame« I. King of Scot!and, and commonty known by th^
name of Chrifi's Kirk on the Green. /Hnd it is true, that in
Murlefque writing, as diftioguilhed from the Mock'Her9$c, vul-
garity of expreflion isalmoft indifpcnfable. See above, chap. 2,
feCk. iv. 9, 10, II,
• Ceo quondam torto volitans fub verbere turbo,
Quem pueri magno in gyro v^cua atria circum,
5 Intenti ludo exercent; illc adias habena
Curvatis fertur fpatiis : ftupcc infcialfupra
Impubeique manus, mirata volubile buxum.
Dant animos plagx, &c. jEmid^ vii. 378.
£ e 2 POSSD
420 ON LAUGHTER AND
POSED TO BE UNITED, INf THE SAME ASSEM-
blao'eJ If agiiri it oe afked. Whether such a
MIXTURE VntL A LWA'YS PROVOKE LAUGHTER?
rtif ahfwcr is. It will always, or for the
most part, excite the Risible Emotion,
unless when the perception of it is attend-
ed WITH SOME OTHER EMOTION OF GREATER AU-
THORiT+,
It caonoi; be cxpefted, that I fliould give a
complete lift oiF thofe emotions that do commonly,
in a found mind, bear down this ludicrous emo-
tion. Several of them have been fpecifiecl in the
courfe of this inquiry. We have feen, from the
c;caniples given, that moral difapprobation, pity,
fear, dilguft, admiration, - are among tHe number j
to which every perfon, who attends to what
pafies in his mind, may perhaps be able to add
others.
i am well aware, that the comparative ftrength
of our feveral emotions is not the fame in each
individual. In fome the more ferious afFeftions
^re fo prevalent, that the rifiblc difpofitibn ope-
rates butfeldom, and with a feeble inipulfc : iii
fome, the latter predominates fo much, that the
others arc fcarce able to counteraft its energy. It
is hardly poffible to arrive at principles fo com-
prehcnfive as to include the peculiarities of every
individual. Thefe are fometimes fo inconfiftent
with the general law of the fpecies, that thejr may
be cbnfidered as deviations from, the ordinary
courfe of nature. In ti^acmg Sentimental Laughter
to
lAJDlCJSLQVB CO)MPQSITK)N. 4?jr
jto Its jSr^ i^rincipjes, I Jiaye exarnir^ed it, onjy as
jt isfoypi^ t;0 9pcrate, fqr tihe4np(l par,t, in thp
generality pf m5mk,ind.
C H A P. IV,
jtin attempt to account for the fupenority (f
the moderns in Ludicrous tVriting.
-T T feems to be generally acknowledged, that the
yL moderns are fuperior to the ancient Greeks
and -Romans, in every fort of Ludicrous Writing.
Jf this be indeed the cafe, it is a fadl that dcferves
.the attention of thofe authors who make Wit, or
jHumour, the fubjeft of thejr inquiry ; iJnce the
ifame rcafonings that accou;it for this fa<a muft
throw light on the philofophy of laughter. But
,by thofe people who argue for argument's fake,
.probable reafons taight be urged, to fhow, that
. we arc not competent judges of the ancient hu-
mour, and therefore cannot be certain of the fu-
periority of the modern. Were I to defend this
fide of the queftion, the folio wing. Ihould be my
arguments.
Every thing that gives variety to the thoughjjs,
the manners, and employments of men, muft alfo
.diverfify their converfations and compofitions in
general, and their wit and humour in particular.
Ec3 Accord-
422 ON LAUGHTER AND
Accordingly we find, that almoA every profcflion
in life has a turn of humour, as well as of think-
ing afid a£bing, peculiar to itfelf. The foldier,
the feaman, the mechanic, the hufbandman, is
more amufed by the converfation of people of his
own trade, than by that of others : and a fpecies
of wit fhall be highly relifbed in one club or fo-
ciety, which in another would be but little at-
tended to. We need not wonder, then, that in
the humour of each country there fhould be fome
peculiar chara<fler, to the forming of which, not
only the language and manners, but even the
climate and foil, mud contribute, by giving a
peculiar diredion to the purfuits and thoughts of
the inhabitants. Nor need we wonder, that each
nation ihould be aflfedted mod dgreeably with its
own wit and humour. For, not to mention the
prejudice that one naturally entertains in favour of
what is one's own, a native mud always under-
hand, better than foreigners can, the relations,
contrarieties, and alluGons, implied in what is
ludicrous in the fpeech and writings of his
countrymen.
3hakefpeare's humour will never be adequately
reliihed in France, nor that of Moliere in Eng-
land : and translations of ludicrous writings are.
feldom popular, unlefs they exhibit fomething of
the manners and habits of thinking, as well as the
language, of the people to whom they arc ad-
dreffcdf Echard*s Terence, from having adopted
fuch # multitude of our cant phrafes, and pro-
verbial
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 423
vtrbial allufions^ is perhaps more generally re-
liihed in Great Britain, than a more literal and
more elegant verfion would have been. Sanchq
Fan9a diverts us more in Motteux's Don Quixote,
than in Jervas's Tranflation, or Smollct's 5 be^
caufe he has more of the £ngli(h clown, and lefs
of the Spaniard, in the former, than in the latter.
And a certain French author, to render his
Tranflation of Tom Jones more acceptable to his
countrymen, and to clear it of what he foolilhly
calls Englifli phlegm, has greatly abridged that
incomparable performance, and, in my opinion,
expunged fome of the fined paflages ; thofe con-
verfation-pieces, I mean, which tend more im*
mediately to the elucidation of the charaflers,
than to the progrefs of the ftory.
May there not, then, in ancient authors, be
many excellent ftrokes of wit and humour, which
we mifapprehend, merely becaufe we cannot ade-
quately reli(h? The dialogues of the Socratic
philofophers abound in pleafantry, which is no
doubt entertaining to a modern reader, but which
does not at all come up to thofe expectations that
one would be apt to form of it from the high en^
comiums of Cicero, and other ancient critics :
and may not this be partly imputed to our not
fufiiciently underftanding the i>ocratic dialogues i
To us nothing appears more paltry in the execu^
tion, than the ridicule with which Ariftophanes
perfecuted Socrates: and yet we know, that it
operated with wonderful energy. on the Athenians,
£ e 4 who.
4114 ON LAXJGHTEH AND
^ho« (br pefinemmt ^f tafte^ and for wk wOi
huftiouf, were diftingtitihed ^paong «H t?hc nocioitt
t)f 'antiquity. I^oe^ not this i^mount to a pic*
fofnption, thftt we are no competent judges ^ the
ho^nburef ^that profligate ci^niediaii ?
Let it be remarked, too, that the fphcre moft
jfavoupable to wit and humour is that which is oc«
copied ixf the middle and lower ranks of man-
kind ; perfons in high ftations being obliged to
maintain a referve unfriendly to rifible emotion*
and to reduce their behaviour to an artificial uni-
jTormky, which does indeed anfwer many important
purpofes, but which, for the moft part, difquali-
fies them for filling any eminent. place in humour-
ous defcription. Now we are much in the dark
in regard to the manners that prevailed among the
Greeks and Romans df the lower fort; and there
ttiuft have been, in their ludicrous writings, as
there are in ours, many nice allufions to trifling
eiiftoms, to the news of the day, and to iharao^
ter^ and incidents too inconfiderable to be minded
by the hiftorian, which none but perfons living at
the time, and in a particular place, couM «yer
comprehend 5 as the writers of thofe days had- no
notion of the modern praftice of illuftrating their
own .works with marginal annotations. 'Many
aurhors, too, are loft; and with them has pro^
bably-perifhed (as we remarked already) the ludi^
crOQs'eflFe^ of innumei^able parodies ^and' turns of
pxpreflion, to be met with in: Ariftophancs, i^lau*
fus, Lucian, Horace, and other wicty snqeots.
LUOIQROKS CQMPQSinDN. 445
It Is At ioA ttrtBiQ* ftkac thece at£ ia Sh^^pei^f
many paiodies and aUufioos, the (propriety of
vhich we^sHiQQt'£(thnaQe, as.tbe^uthors, cuftoms^
and incidents, infeiiiicd to, ace already /forgotten.
'FvDm tChe caiifos now hinted at, Mvork« of wit
and humour would -appear to be defs pctrmanent in
their cflFeAs, and more liable to become obfcuFe^
than .any other literary compofiiions. 'Qommenr
taries are now neceflar y to make Hudrbras and
the Dunciad thoroughly intelligible:: and what a
myftcriousirhapfody .would the Rape of <be Lock
be to thofe, who, though well itiftf ufted in the
language of 'Hooker and Spqnfer, had :neverrhei^i:d
iof fnufF or (;f|fiee, watches pr hoqp- petticoats,
heaus or l^p-dog^, toilettes or C£ird*tables i But
ihe reafonii^s of Euclid and D<(mo(lhen€;s, the
tnoral and natural paintings of Homer and Vir-
gil, the pathos of 'J&loifa's Epift^p to Abelard, the
defcriptions of Livy and Tacitus, can n^ver ftaiid
in need of commentaries to explain them» fo lon^
AS the Greek, Latin, and .Englifli langjij^ges .are
tolerably underftood.; bccaufe^they arc founded. in
thofe fqggeftions of human reafon, and . thofe ap^
pearances in the. moral and material worl^, .whijch
are always the fame, and with which ev^ry intel-
ygent obferver muft in^very age be acq.gainted.
I would not infmuate, that all forts of ^Ludi-
crous writing are equally liable to lofetb^r-^ed,
and be ml&inderftood. Thofe muft pptferve their
relifli unimpaired ' thfou^ ages, whi<;h aUude, —
iQOpr morepermaneop follies and abfurditics ; like
Horace's
4t6 ON LAUGHTER AND
Horace's pidurc of an intrufive coxcomb, and
the greater part of the fattre which he levels at
pedantry and avarice ; — or to writings tranfcen*
dently excellent*, like the Virgilian Cento of Au^
fonius, the Splendid Shilling of Philips, and the
Batrachomyomachia erroneoufly afcribed to Ho?
mer^— -or to cuftoms or opinions univerlally
known ; fuch as LxKian*S ridicule of the Pagan
Theology, and that inimitable raillery on the
abufes of learning which is contained in the me-
moirs of Martinus Scriblerus. I mean only to
fay, that Ludicrous writing in general is extreme*
ly fubjc6t to the injuries of time •, and that, there-
fore, the wit and humour of the ancient Greeks
and Romans might have been far more exquince,
than we at prefent have any pofitive rcafon to
believe.
Such would be my plan of declamation, if I
were to controvert the common opinion of our fu-
periority to the ancients in Ludicrous writing. But
I am not anxious to difpute this point; being
fatisfied, that the common opinion is true ; and
that, confidering the advantages in this refpecl
which the moderns enjoy, the cafe cannot well be
otherwife.
Modern Ridicule, compared with the ancient,
will be found to be, firft, more copious-^ and,
fecondly, mere refined.
I. The fuperior copiousness of the former may
be accounted for, if we can IhQw, that to us many
fources of wit and humour are both open and
obvious,
LVDICROUS COMPOSITION. 4^7
obvious, which to the ancients were titterly un-
known. It is indeed reafonable to fuppofe, that
they may have been acquainted with many ludi-
crous objefts, whereof we are ignorant -, but that
we muft be acquainted with many more, of which
they were ignorant, will hardly be qucftioned bjr
thole who admit, that laughter arifes from incon-
gruous and unexpected combinations of ideas ;
and that our fund of ideas is more anhple and
more diycrfified than that of the Greeks and Ro-
mans, becaufe our knowledge is more extenfivc
both of men and of things. Far be it from me^
to undervalue the attainments of that iUuftrious
pgrt of the human race. The Greeks and Ro-
mans are our mafters in all polite learning ^ and
their knowledge is to ours, what the foundation is
to a fuperftrudure. Our fuperiority, where wc
have any, is the confequence of our being poftc-
rior in time, and enjoying the benefit of their dif-
coverics and exiample, as well as the fruits of our
own induftry. At any rate, the fuperiority I now
contend for is fuch as the warmed admirer of the
ancients may admit, without difrefpeft to their
memory, or injury to their reputation.
To compare the late acquifuions in knowledge
with the ancient difcoveries, would far exceed the
bounds of a (hort EfTay, and is not neceflary at
prefent. All I mean to do, is to make a few
brief remarks on the fubjedl, with a view to
account for the fuperior copioufnefs of modern
ridicule,
That
4i\S Qfl LA1JGHTER Am
T'b^t in i^oft braach^ of philo^phy> ^ n^r
^cural hidory, the moderns have the advantage .qf
.the ancients, is i^ncieniable* Hence )B|ire/dei;ive ^9
endlefs nnulticude^ of notions unknawa to ^a^i«>
quiryt which» hy boing differently combined ai)d
cooipared, give rife to innu(nerable varieties .of
that fpecies of ludicrous affoclation .which is
xalled Wit. £very addition to literature enlarges
the fphere of wit, by fupplying new images, and
new opportunities of*tracing out-unexpefted fimi-
Ittude : nor would the author of -Hudibras .ha7<e
,exceUed fo much in this talent, if he had not been
diftinguiflied by uncommon «cqui(icions in leam*
ing, as well as by a fingular turn of fancy. One
cannot read a canto of his extraordinary Poem,
without difcovering his ability in both thefc re-
fpcds ; or a page, without being ftruck with feme
jocular allufion, which could not have occurred to
the wits of Greece or Rome, becaufe it depends
on ideas with which they were unacquainted.
The moderns are alfo better inftrufted in ^11 the
varieties of human manners. They know what the
ancients were, and what they themfclves are 5 and
their ioiprovements, in commerce, geography, and
navigation, have wonderfully extended the know-
ledge of mankind within the two laft centuries.
They have feen, by the lightr of hiftory, the
greateft and politeft nations fwallowcd up injtljc
abyfs of barbarifm, and again fc)y flqw degrees
emerging from it. Their policy and fpirtt of ;ad-
3 ' venture
LUdrCROUS COMPOSITlbl^. 4^ct
vcniufc feave rhadt them wcTl acquainted with
niahy nations w^ofe very cxiftence was anciently
unknown •, and it is how caficr to fail round the
globe, than it then was to explore: the coafts of
the Mediterranean fca. Hence I (hall not fay
that we fiave acquired any fuperiof knowledge of
thofe faculties elTehtial to human nature, which
cbnftitute ihi foundation of moral fciefice: but
Kehce it is clear, that we dtrive a v6ry great vi-
riety df fhofe ideas of thd charifteifs and cifcuttl-
(iances of mankind, vt^hich, by thtir different j«r-
rahgenieiits and colourings, form that fpectes of
Ibdicrous combinaition which is cdlWd Humour.
Td be fomewhat more pa?:ticular: Certain
fdfms of government are familiar to the moderns,
of which the ancients knew almoft nothing. I
mention only the Feudal Syftem ; the influence
wherfcof has in latter times wrought fo amazing a
change on the affairs and manners of Europe.
Other invaders have fatisfied therafelves with in-
troducing their laws and cuftoms gradually into a
conquered province : but the fubverters of the
Roman empire^ all at once, with a rapidity equal
to that wherewith they marched and fought, gave
new forms to fociety, new analogies to laaguage^
and a new direftion to the thoughts and pafiions
of nien. Ideas of political fubordination, fuch
sis had never occurred to the mod fanciful projec-
toSrs of Greece and Rome, now took pofleffion of
the human mind, and obliterated all the philofo*
pby of the ancient republican,— One of the moft
immediate
43^ ON LAUGHTER AND
immediate effcfts of this fyftem was, to make a
f^paracion between the different orders of men»
and to fubjed human intercourfe to the rules of a
more complex economy : — this would be the na-
tural confcquence of indituting the feveral gra-
dations of vafTalage, and annexing high preroga-
tives to the condition of a fuperior. In a repub-
lic» the citizens mud often meet together upon
the footing of equality and mutual independence;
and having nearly, the fame purpofes in view, and
. enjoying the fame privileges, will contract fimilar
habits of thinking, and be animated with fimilar
paflions, and marked with a famenefs of charader,
or at leaft of external deportment. In a defpotic
empire, where all the fubjeds are equally infigni-
ficant and hopelcfs, and where to remain undi-
ftinguifhed is the bed and almoft the only fecurity,
piAurefque diverfities of genius and difpolition are
ftill lefs to be expedled. But in a feudal ftate,
where the primitive fpirit of freedom predo-
minates, the orders of men, on account of their
vaft inequality, muft form themfelves into feparatc
focietics, which, while their refpeftive privileges
and pretenfions keep them aftive, mutual jealoufy
or ambition will prompt to make a figure, each
in its own particular fphere, and by means pecu-
liar to itfelf. — It has been remarked, that varieties
of charader are more perceptible in England,
than in other countries : and 1 fubmit to the reader,
whether this may not be accounted for, on the
principles here fpecified. Were the country-
gentle-
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 431
gentlefifieh of Englai^ to live in towns, or to tnett
frequently in a common fcrumf or in any other
way CO form one large fociety, their peculiarities
would difappear, and their behaviour (like that
of citizens in a republic) would become externally
uniform, or nearly fo : and if they were not con*
fcious of their own independence and privileges,
they would not have the courage to think for
thenafelves, but would probably be (like many of
their neighbours) imitators of one another, or in*
lipid followers of the fafhion. Let me not be
fuppofcd to infmuate, that variety of genius and
temper is peculiar to any one form of government :
diflferent chara<5bers I am fenfible that there always
will be, where-evcr there are different men : my
meaning is, that the manners of individuals, and
thofe outward circumftances of life that fupply
materials for wit and humour, are liable to be
more divcrfified by fome forms of government
than by others, and by free governments of the
feudal form more perhaps than by any other.—
The laughable peculiarities that diftinguifh Don
Quixote, Parfon Adams, Sir Roger de Coverlcy,
Squire Wcftcrn, and many other heroes of the
Comic Romance, are fuch as men could not be
fuppofed to acquire, if they did not live fecTuded
in fome degree from the general intercourfe of
fociety. We fmile, when failors ufc at land the
language of the fea, when learned pedants xnter-^
lard ordinary difcourfe with Greek and Latin
idioms, when coxcombs bring abroad into the
world
4i^ Ot^ LAtK^MtElt AraS(
wofK ih€ AhLttiet smd gefticisktiMs at ibAr <mn
felf or» stPt fubje^ls iri figured df fpeech fuggefted
t)y tvfrat bctofrgi to his own pfOftSOott 6ttly. No#
i^hac but habits contra£fced in a narrow ibciety
cotiW pvcfdnct thcfe j)eculiarit}ei& ? And docs not
this pfove; th^ ludicrous qualrtics afrc incident to
men whd live detached in sL narrow fociety, and,
(hefefbre, that the feudal, or any other, form of
government, that tends to keep the dificrent orders
of ffien feparate, muft be favourable to wit and
humbtir, aitd fo enhrgc the fphere of ludicrotrs
Wfitiftg ? A general acquaintance with mankind,
pfodoce^ a facility of doing what is conformaMe
to gertCf^l manners, and wears off thofe impro-
prieties and ftrange habitd that divert by their
fingularity.
But whatever account the reader may make of
thefe reafoftings, this at leaft he muft allow, that
from the feudal government arofe one inftitution,
I mean Chivalry, which gave occaGon to Cer-
vantes to invent a fpecies of writing, as fertile of
humour (and of wit, too, if Hudibras be an
imitation of it), as any that ever appeared in the
world. Need we wonder, then, that the modern
ridicule fhould be mort copious nhzn the ancient?
Religious Controverfy is in modern times a
never-failing fource of wit and humour. But in
the days of Greece and Rome there was no fuch
thing-, the Pagan fuperftitions being tooabfurd
to admit of controverfy. Fronj. this fource we
derive
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 43^
derive many wittjr paflages in tht writings of
Chaucer, Erafmus, Pafcal, and others ; and it is
to this we ace indebted for Hudibras and The Tale
of a Tub» two of the moft laughable (I wiih I could
fay the moft falutary) pieces of ridicule that
ever were written. It may feem furprifing, that
things fo ferious and awful, as fupcrftition and en-
thuflafm, (hould lie open to the attack of the wit
and buffoon, as well as of the fatirift. Indeed,
if we eftimate thtm by their effe&s in fociety, and
their power over the human mind, they would
fcem worthy to be reckoned among the moil tre-
mendous phenomena in nature. And fo they are»
no doubt ; and, for this reafon, may be made the
ground-work of tragedy, ferious fatirc, rhetorical
inveftive, and other fublime tompofmons. But
when we confider them as they are in themfelves,
and with a view to the caufes whence they fre-
quently arife, the arguments by which they are^
fupportcd, and the ftrange vagaries into which
they have led rational beings, wemuft be ftruck
with fometbing ludicrous in their appearance;
particularly with the vaft difproportion between
'their real and imaginary dignity •, between their
genuine effects, and thofc that, previouQy to ex-
periencti we fliould be inclined to expetft from
them. And thus it is, that fuperftirion and en-
thufiafm, while they appear in the light, not of
crimes, but of infirmities, may very well be madc-
the fubjeftpf Comic Ridicule. But let. themrdi
of wit be bran^ilhed againft them with difcrecion
F f fupcrior
434 ON LAUGHTER AND
fuperior to that of the Dean of St Patrick's ; left^
while it is employed to difpel die gloom, that by
invefting the fhrine of thefe demons conceals their
deformity, it Ihould be permitted to dart facri-
legious fire into the neighbouring fanftuary of
religion.
Gallantry (by which I here underftand thofe
generous and refpedtful attentions we owe the
Fair Sex) contributes in many ways both to the
ccpieufnefs and to the refinement of wit and hu-
mour. Nor is there evidence, that this mode of
policenefsat all fttbfifted in Greece or Rome, at
Icaft in its prcfent form. There, the women,
fecluded from general converfation, were known
only by their domeftic virtues, or by crimes that
expofed them to public abhorrence^ while the
nicer difcriminations of the female charafter,
which fupply materials for comic writing, were
little attended to: nor could they, in that fc-
qucftcred condition^ ever arrive at thofe improve-
ments in tafte, addrefs, and delicacy, which may
be communicated by modern education, and which
in a modern youth may excite a purer and more
intcrefting attachment than ever animated a Greek,
or Roman lover. In fa£l, there is nothing in
modern manners more eharaAeriftical than this
Gallantry, and few things that would furprife an
ancient more. It befpeaks, on the part of the
men, a mixture, of tcnderncfs and refpefl:, of
deference and eftcem, which the politeft gallant of
antiquity never thought of; and of familiarity
j»nd
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION^ 4g5
ind referve, confidence and caution^ dri the part
of the wotnenv which the Greek and Romail
ladies, confined to the fckiiety of their own fex^
and intimidated by a rigorous economy that ttn*
dered their ftate little better thari fervitude, wuki
have neither inclination lior opportunity to ac«
quire.
The old Gci^marts (as we learn froni Tacitu*.*)^
and thoie warriors of the north who invaded the!
Roman empire, were on all occafions attended hf
their women i whom, if they did not loVe witb
romantic fondnefs^ they efteenfied for their friend«*
ly counfels and faithful fervice, and fometimes
confidered as oracles, by whom the gods gave in-
♦ Tacittis, De moribas GcrmaDorunQ. — Thucydidcs was o(
opinion, that (he i3 the beft woman, of whom there is leaft
fpeech, either t6 hct praife Or difpfaife; and that the name of a
lady of hioiionr ought always, like her body, to be ke{>t at
home* and never perm^itted to go abroad.* This doflrine,'
Which convtiys no comfortable idea of the Grecian etonomy In
regard to the Fair Sex, is warmly controverted by the gallant
and good-natured Platarch ; who, in his tfeatiTe of the virtues
of women, toittends, ^* that virtue always deferves honoar
** whert^ver it is found, but 6fpccially t^n it is the work ot
** a feeble agent ; and that, therefoce^ female virtue is peculi-
'* arly worthy of praife, that not only their own fex, but meal
•* alfo, may pl-ofit by the example.^' — Many femal6 charaftersi
Of high virtue are indeecf celebrated by anttent hiftorians and
poets ; and innumerable teftimonies in their favour might b^
cited from the Greek and Roman authors. Yet (iill the general
treatment of women at Rome^ but efpeciatlly in Greece, was
fuch as we fhoald not fcruple to call tyrannical and cruel ; as
partaking much of the Afiatic feverity, little of the Gothic
and German confidence^ and nothing at all of the liberality^
genilenefif and affedlionate homage^ of modern gallantry.
F f 2 jiniatioii
436 ON LAUGHTER AND
ttmatioo of future events f. But in the more
genial regions of Afia, the fexcs lived on a very
different footing. Without a grain of efteyeoi on
ckber fule, the men regarded the women witfi
jennments of \mtender, though pallionate love ^
and the women, fecludedfrom public view, and
cue off from the means of rational improvc^ienc^
were infipid and fubmiffive, as (laves muft be un-
der the rod of tyranny.. Modern gallantry com^
prehends every thing that is agreeable in thefe two
modes. of domeftic mtercoiufei avoiding the
aaviOi and unmanly principles of the latter, and
whatever favours of har(hncis in the former*
With all due regard to e](ternal charms, it is ftill
more fenfible pf moral and intelle&ual beaptys
and while itfavours the enthuSafm, and difavows
the jealoufy, of the enamoured Aliatic, it exalts
and refines thofe fentiments of ration^ efteeoB
which we inherit from our free-born anccftws of
the north. In a word, the fupcriority, vefted by
law in the male fcx, is now amply compcnlated to
the female, by that tender complaifance, with
which they are^ treated in all polite nations i and
which, from the ufe they make of it in improving
. - t
f I kffdw not, whether it proceeded from the rerped the
tionKern Sralidas paid their women, or to what other caafe it
was owing ; but it is very fingalar, and what* on Mr» Harris'a
principles (fee Hfrmes^ p. ^s.)^ could not be eafily accQon^d
for, that in the $4xon and Tome oth^ oorthern languages* the
Sun ihould be of the feminine gender, and the MoOQ mafcoline.
Sec Hickes's Thefaurus.
focicty,
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 437
fedecy, and chlivcning convcr&tioir, it appears
ihat they fo. juftly defervc.
Is it not obvioul, that this gallantry tends to
enlarge the fphcre of Comic writing ? By admit*
ting us to the converfation 6f the fair fex, it brings
lis acquainted with an entire clafs of charafters,
wherein, though we muft difccrn every fort of
human excellence, we may alfo trace out (firice
nothing fuWunary is perfeA) fomc of thofe little
feults and abfurditics, which Ariftotfei had he
known them, would hare allowed tobe fit objedji
of Comic Ridicule. Bur nerthcr Ariftotk, nor
any other ancient, can vie with the moderns in>
l^nowledge of the female charader. We fee no*
thing of it, or next to nothing, in the comedies
or fatires of Xjrcccfe and Rome. Whereas, in the
wri^ngs of Fielding, Young,' Pope, and Shake-
fpeare, not to mention the French and Italian au*
thqrs^ ttie freaks and foibles of the female world
fupply a rich fund of humorous entertainment.
Further : Confidering the form of intercourfc
nflfW fubfiftirig between the fexes, fo difFerent from
that \H)ich anciently prevailed, and their different
purfuits and MCrComplifhmerits thence refulting ; is
there, npt^ reafon to fuppofe, that the pafllons
wherewith they infpire each other ftquld aifo be
different? Romantic Love feems to be almoft
peculiar to the i^ter ages This paffion may per»
haps be traced' ijp to that fpiric of courtefy ?nd
adventure which arofefrom circumftances peculiar
to feudal government, diftinguilhed all the inltij
Ff3 tutio^i
43f ' ON LAUGHTER AND
tutiohs of cWralrjr,' gave Birth and form to the
old romance, and confcqucntly to the new, and
to this day influi^nces in a perceptible degree the
cufloms add manners of Europe. More de)icate
and niore generous than the Greek or Roman
lQve$9 this palTion.is alfo more interefting, and
may of courfe be prefumcd to be more powerfuK
Shakefpeare, and the author of Robinfon Cruib,
h^ve indeed (hown, thait even in modern times thi$
paflion is. not eflentidl, either in trs^gedy or in ro-
snahcc, to form an afiedting fable : but the gene-f
rality of late writers, if we may judge of their
ppinions by their praftice, feem to think other-
wife; and that to every fort of fiAitious narrative^*
from an Epic poem to a^Pailoral, from Amadi^^
de Gaul to the laft publifh^ novel, a love-ftorjr
is as ornamental and neceflary, as leaves p a tre*:,
or a miftrefs to a knight-errant.
As romantic love in its natural and regular pro*'
ccdure, is now becomfe fo copious a fource of joy
and forrow, hope and fear, triumph and difap-
pointment, we might reafonably conclude, that in
its more whimfical forms and vagaries it could
fcarce fail to fupply materials for laughter. And
that this is the cafe, nobody in the )ea(t acquainted
with modern life or modern literature needs be in-
formed. I mention not its laughable extrava-
gancies, as they appear in Don Quixote, Sir Roger
de Coverley, and other heroes o« record ; and far
jt>e it from me to fpecify on this occafion any of
f he various forms of female prudery and coquetry,
of
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 439
of which I always think with the moft profound
reverence. But the reader would wonder at me,
if i did not remark, that to afieftations and follies,
which L fear are imputable to this gentle pafllon,
we owe an endlefs train of fops, coxcombs, beaus,
malecoquets, cicifbeos, and danglers i a breed of
animals unknown to the ancients •, and which, if
they were but as harmlcfs as they are contempt-
ible, might be allowed to rank with the moft ri-
diculous things on the face of the earth*
Other caiifes for the fuperior copioufnefs of
modern ridicule I Ihall only hint at ^ as illuftra-
don is not neceflary to render their effefts obvious
to the reader.
We have a greater variety of authors to allude
to, in the way of parody and burlefque, than the
ancients had ^ for we have both ancient authors
and modern : and to an exceflive admiration of
the former fome late wits have afcribed the origin
of a new fpecies of ludicrous charaftcr, whereof
we have feveral ftrong outlines in the travelling
phyfician in Peregrine Pickle, and a finiflicd por-
trait in the Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus.
There was indeed, in the days of Horace*, a
fort of charafter not unlike this -, a fee of critics
who, defpifing the literary produdlions of their
own times, were perpetually extolling the ancient
Roman authors, and tracing out divine beauties
of ftyle in writings that were become almoft un-
intelligible. But thefe critics are rather to be
* Hon Spift. ad Auguftum, verC 19,— -27.
f f 4 ranked
440 ON LAUGHTER AND
ranked with thofe of our antiquarians who prefer
Chaucer and Langland Co t)ryden and Milton^
and« like Pope's Pariih clerk, take a kindly af*
feftion even to the black letter in which the former
are printed. The tafte of fuch men may be
fmgular; but as their labours are often ufeful in
illuftrating ancient hiftory, it would not be poffi*
ble, without violent mifreprefentation, to make
them fo ridiculous, as Pope and Arbuthnoc have
made the elder and younger Scriblerus.
It may alfo be remarked, that our cuftoms in
regard to drefs change more frequently than the
Greek or Roman did. Whether this be owing to
our improvements in commerce, and fuperior
zeal for varieties of manufafbure, or to a bad
tafte in drefs, which muft always be changing,
becaufe it has no Bxed principles ; or to the influ*
encc of the feudal manners; or to the luxuries
peculiar to opulent monarchy, I do not now in-
quire : but a certain fa£l it is, that the Greek and
Roman drelTes were in a great degree permanent,
while ours are liable to endlefs alteration. A cir*
curnftance this, that may at firft view feem uncon-
nefted with the prefent fubjedl; but to which the
admirers of the Rape of the Lock, Spectator,
and Tatler, are indebted for fome of the fineft
humour that ever was written.
Commerce, and all the arts connected with it,
are more fuccefsfully cultivated by modern, than
they were by ancient nations. Hence a variety of
new employments, which, by dividing mankind
, , into
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 441
into feparate profeffions and focleties, multipl/
Iminan charafkers, and enlarge the fphere of hu-
mour. And hence, as was obferved, an infinite
number of new Qbjefts and ideas, that extend the
bounds of wit, by fuggefting new fources of com*
parifon, and ludicrous arrangement.— — The art
of Printing, too, by diffufing literature, has mader
the characters of mankind better known, and
raifed up a greater variety of authors, whofe^difFer-
cnt purfuits and adventures yield materials for that
mode of ludicrous writing, in which the Dunciad
may be confidered as the moft capital per-
formance.
To a full examination of the prefent topic, it
would be further ncccffary, to give a critical a-
nalyfis of our mod celebrated works in wit and
humour, and of the human charadlers difplayed
in them ; and to inquire, from what external
caufes the laughable peculiarities in each charafter
arife*, and how far the fame or Gmilar caufes could
take place in ancient times^ But this I leave as a
theme to amufe the leifure of future critics ; and
fliall conclude with a remark or two on the fupe-
rior REFINEMENT of modcm ridicule.
II. If modern ridicule be more copious than the
ancient, of which there feems to be fufficient proof,
it muU alfo, according to the natural progrcfs of
things, be mOre refined. For, as was hinted al-
ready, the more converfant we are among plea-
furablc objcS.s of any particular clafs, the more
iagacious we become in efUmating their compara-
tive
44i ON LAUGHTER AND
<ive excellcncey and our tafte of cowrie becomes
more delicate. When a favage or clown fees a
pidture for the firft time, his wonder is raiied to
the higheft pitch, even tho* the merit of the piece
be but fmall : he never beheld any thing fo ad-
mirable; he can conceive nothing beyond it.
Make him acquainted with a number of pi£lures»
and engage him to fix his attention upon each,
and you (hall fee him of his own accord begin to
form comparifonsj to difcover beauties in one,
which are not in another, or not in the fame de«-
gree ; and at laft, perhaps, to find out imperfec-
tions in the bed, and to conceive fomeching in
the art ftill better than he has ever feen. Home*
ly jokes delight the vulgar, becaufe their know-
Ijcdge of ludicrous combination is limited. Let
this knowledge be extended ; let them hear va^
rieties of converfation, or read the works of witty
authors, and their tafte will improve of itfelf ;
and thofe jokes will at length appear defpicable,
which formerly they miftook for excellent. That
the humour of Addifon and Pope Ihould be more
refined than that of Lucian and Horace, that
Swift fhould be more delicate than Rabelais, and
Foote than Ariftophanes, is therefore not n^ore
furprifing, than that the man of obfervation,
who has made the tour of Europe, Ihould be a
better judge of elegance in building and furni-
ture, than he who has never travelled beyond th.Q
frontier qf his native prpvince.
But,
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 443
But, if this progrefs towards pcrfeftion of tafte
hold univcrfally, why, it 'may be faid, do not wc
iexcel the ancients in our tafte of books and writ-
ing in general i fince it is plain, that in this re-
fpedt alfo wc have more experience than they ? I
anfwcr : If all the books we have, the new as
well as old, had been written in a good tafte, and
wc as attentive readers as the ancients were, it is
not abfurd to fuppofe, that our tafte in writing
jtiight have been more perfect than theirs. But
we have fuch nunjbers of books to read, and fo
many of them trifling, and fo many unfkilfully
written, that we are apt to lofe the habit of atten-
tive ftudy, and even to contrad a liking to in-
elegant or faulty compofition. For inattention
long indulged fettles into a habit, and the fame
fufceptibility of nature, which in time reconciles
Ibme men to the relilh of tobacco and ftrong H-
quors, may alfo admit a depravation in the mental
tafte; of thofe to whom deformity has long been
familiar* I fuppofed the clown, the favage, and
fhe traveller, attentive to what they faw •, and I
did not fuppofe every thing they faw to be bad
in its kind. Had every thing been bad, or they
inattentive, it would have been impoflible for
them, in the cafe I mentioned, ever to acquire a
tafte in painting, building, or furniture: and
ivere a man never to hear any but coarfe and
vulgar jokes, I queftion whether his tafte in ridi^-
cule would ever improve, though he were to hear
^em by hundreds and choufands every day. And
there-
444 ON LAUGHTER AND
therefore I admit, that the progreft above men-
tioned, towards pcrfi^dian of tafte, holds, not
univerfally^ but only in certain circucnftances ;
and that the fuperior r^^»e»/ of modern ridicule
cannot be accounted for, froip its fuperior capiouf-
mfsj vjnlcfs we can prove if to have received cul-
tivation from the iqQucnce qf other caufes peculiar
to the condition of n^en in. modern times.
And, in order to prove this, I obferve, fecond-
ly. That what we call the point of honour (though
ki many refpefts blameable) has, in conjunction
wUli a fpirit of courtefy derived from the fame
Feudal origin^ tended greatly in thtfe latter times
to check intemperate pailion, and regulate human
fpecch. And nothing, perhaps, has more eiFcc-
tually foftened cpnverfation, by difcountenancing
indelicacy, and by promoting good hunaour,
gentle manners, and a defire to pleaie, than the
fociety of the fair fcx -, an acquificion whereof
neither the fages of Greece and Rome, nor the
voluptuaries of Alia, ever knew the value ; and
for which Europe is indebted to the refinements
peculiar to modern gallantry. Nor is it only by
fkudying to avoid whatever might be ofFenfive to
female delicacy, that we derive improvement from
our amiable partners in focial life, l^y fet us
an example, fr<)m which it is our own fault if we
receive no benefit. The livelinefs of their fancy,
the purity oi their tafte, and the unftudied cafe of
their elocution, give to modern cqnverfation an
z ... .- . elegance
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 445
elegance and a variety, which the Steraric (chool
itfelf would have betn ptoud to Cake^r a modet
My third remark is. That political inftitutionl
have alfo an efFefb on ludicrous writing, as on
every thing elfe in which that political creature
Man IS concerned. The mirtk pf a favage, whca
he gives way to it, is madncfs 5 as his forrow ap*
proaches to defpair. But favages are little ad*
dided to jocularity : their looks, their fongs, ahd
their mufic are folemn 5 they are continually eft*
groffed by emotions more powerful than this of
laughter 5 a neceffary cffcft of their violent tem-
per, and of their needy and perilous condition.
Wit and humour, and thofe nicer improvements
of fpeech that minlfter to pleafure rather than
neceflity, feldom appear among a people, till
public peace be tolerably fecure. And as mo«
aarchy is, of all governments, the leaft liable to
either external afiault, or inteftine commotion^
and leaves the fubjed moft at leifure for both
private bufinefs alAd private amufement ; it would
Icem of courie more favourable to every fpecies
^i comic writing, than any of the republican forms*>
in which important affairs, and confequently' im-
portant emotions, n^tift ever be.prefent to the
fober-miftded citizen. And where perfons (^ all
ranks, sod thofe ranks very different, often meet
io focietyi and the public welfare depends on
cbeir living on good terms with one another, each
within the rphere of his own prerogative (a ftatc
of things not to be looked for in peoiocracy or
Dei{>oci{ai,
446 ON LAUGHTER AN0
Defpotifrnt but very compatible with limited ixici^
narchy), politenefs of behaviour muft needs take
place ; while the great find it for their intereft to
pleafe the people i and the people, to recommend
themfclves to the favour of the great. This
general politenefs, which is one diftinguifliing
charafteriftic of nionarchy, and which the ex-
ample of a court is alone fufHcient to make
fafhionable, muft ever be unfriendly to rudenefs
of fpeech, and muft therefore refine wit and hu^
mour, while it poliflies converfation. Now it is
obfervable, that in modern times Monarchy gives
the law to thofe parts of th^ world that afpire to
a literary charaAer, as Republican governnOent
did of old. Does not this, added to the former
confideration, account in fome meafure for the
fuperior refinement of modern wit and humour?
And now^ notwithftanding the levity of many
of thefe remarks, and the unioterefting title pre^
fixed to them, may we not be permitted to obferve
in conclufion, that the meek and benevolent fpirit
of our religion has had a powerful influence in
fweetening and refining all the comforts of human
fociety, and Converfation among the reft ?— That
humility, gentlenefs, and kind afiedtion, whereof
good-breeding ever afilimes the outward form^
does not Chriftianity eftablifh in the htart as a
permanent principle of indifpenfable obligation?
That generous love of human khid, which
prompts the Chriftian to watch for the good of
others, and embrace every opportonity of prou
i. moting.
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 447
moting, not only their welfare, but their yirtue,
taking care never to offend,^ and avoiding even
the appearance of evil, — would not the man of
tafte acknowledge to be the very perfcftion of
t>olite behaviour? Muft not the affeding view
that true religion exhibits, of all mankind bearing
to one another the relation of brethren, impart
keennefs and activity to thofe tender fympathies of
our focial nature, whereof the language of good*
breeding is fo remarkably expreflive i Chriftianity
commands, not the fuppreflion only, but the ex-
tinftion, of every indelicate thought, arrogant
emotion, and malevolent purpofe : would conver-
fation ftand in need of any further refinement, if
this law were as pun6bually fulfilled, as it is earneft-
ly recommended ? What is more efficacious, than
habitual good-humour, in rendering the inter*
courfe of fociety agreeable, and in keeping at a
diftance all intemperate pafiion, and all hardinefs
of fentiment and language ? And of what religion,
but the Chriftian, can we fay with truth, that ic
fupplies, in every ftate of human affairs, a perpe-
tual fource of confolation ? In a word, true Chri-
ftianity, alone and at once, transforms a barbarian
into a man ; a brutal, felfifh, and melancholy
favage, into a kind, a generous, and a cheerful
afibciate.
Will it be faid, that delicacy of fpcech and be-
haviour may be communicated and acquired by
the means recommended in fome late Letters,
namely, by external applications, and by the ufc
of
448 ON LAUGHTER AND
of certain mechanical phrafea, lookSf and get
cures? As well may the painting of the cheeks
tnd eye brows be prefcribed as a prefervative from
the rheumatifm, and perfumed fnuflfasan anti-
dote againft hunger and thirft. He has learned
Tittle of the true interefts of human fociety, tnd
nothing at all of the human mind, who does not
know, that without fincerity there could not be
either happinefs or comfott upon earth ; that per-*
manent propriety of conduct has its fource in tEe
heart ; and that, if all men believed one another
to be knaves and hypocrites, politenefs of lan«
guage and attitude, inftead of being graceful,
would appear as ridiculous, as the chatter of a
parrot, or the grin of a monkey. Who, that has
the fpirit of a man, could take pleafure in profef-
fions of good-will, which he knew to be infinccre ?
Who, that is not confcious of fome bafenefs in
himfdf, could ferioufly imagine, that mankind in
general might be rendered fufceptible of fuch plea*
fure? I fpeak not now of thejmmorality of that
new fyftem •, which, if 1 were inclined to fay of
It what I think, would give deeper, as well as
louder, tones to my language: I fpeak only of
its abfurdity and folly. And abfurd, and fooUffi,
in the extreme, as well as wicked, muft every
^ fyftem be, that aims to disjoin delicacy from vir-
tue, or virtue from religion.
Let us not imagine, becaufe the influence of
religion is not fo powerful as it ought to be, that
therefore it is not powerful at all. What human
creatures
LUDICROUS COMPOSITION. 449
creatures would have been at this day, if the light
of the gofpel had not yet arifen upon the earth,
we cannot poGtively tell : but were this a proper
place for explaining the ground of fuch a conjec-
ture, I think I could demonflrate the reafonable-
heft of fuppofing, that they muft have been, be*
yond all comparifon, more wretched than they arc.
At a time, when it was debafed by the mod la-
mentable fuperftitions, religion taught courtefy
and fobernefs to the fons of chivalry : a circum-
stance whereof the falutary efFedls are ftill dif-
cernible in the manners of Europe. How much
greater nnay we prefume its efficacy to be in thefe
days, when it is taught in its purity, and may be
nnderftood by all! — But infidels, it may be ob-
jefted, are as eminent for polite behaviour, as be-
lievers. Granting this to be true, which however
it is impoflible to prove, I would only defire thofe,
who fecond the objeclion, to confider, whether the
prefent fyftem of politenefs arofe among infidels or
Chriftians •, whether it would have arifen at all, if
paganifm had continued to prevail ; whether fcveral
of its diftinguifhing charafters be not derived from
the Chriftian religion ; whether the light of rea-
fon, unaided by the radiance of the gofpel, would
have difpelled fo foon that night of intcUeftual
, darj^nefs which followed the fubverfion of the
Roman empire; and, laftly, whether it be not
prudent for a few individuals (unbelievers being
itill, as I truft, the fmaller number in thefe parts
of the world) to conform to the manners of the
many, cfpecially when thofe manners are univcr-
G g fally
45b ON LAUGHTER, &c.
fally acknowledged to be more agreeable than art/
other. The influence of true religion, in hu-
manizing fociety, and refining converfation, is
indeed very great. And if fa, I could not, con-
fidently with my prefent plan, overlook it. Nof
is it, in my opinion, poffible for a philofopher^
unlefs blinded by ignorance, checked by timidity,
or led artray by prejudice, to enter into any in-
quiry relating either to morals or ta manners,
without paying fome tribute of praife ta that
Divine Inftitution.
REMARKS
ON THE USEFULNESS OF
CLASSICAL LEARNING.
£g0 muUos homines excelUnti animo ac virtute
fuijfi^ et fine doSrina^ nature ipfius babitu prope di-
Vino^ per feipfos et moderates, etgraveSy extitijfefa*
tear. Etiam illud adjungo^ fuepius ad laudem atquc
virtutem naturamfine doSrina^ quamfine natura va*
luijfe doHrinam. Atque idem eg$ contendoj cum ad
naturam eximiam atque illuftrem accejferit ratio qua*
dam conformatioque dollrina^ turn illud nefcio quidpra-
clarum ac fingulare folere exiftere. — ^od fi non hie
tantus fruSlus ofienderetur^ etfiex hisftudiis dekSatia
fola peteretur ; tamen, ut opinor^ hanc animi remif-
fionem humanijftmam ac libtratijjimam judicaretis.-^
Hacftudia adolefcentiam alunt^ fene^utem obleSant^
fecundas res ornanty adverfis perfugium ac folatium
pr^ebent^ deleSlant domi^ non impediunt foris^ pernoc-
tant nobifcum^peregrinantur^ rufticantur.
Cicero pro Archia, cap. ji
REMARKS
ON TWE USEFULNESS OF
CLASSICAL LEARNING.
Written ia the year JjSg.
THE calumniators of the Greek and Ro-
man Learning have not been few in thefc
latter times. Perrault, La Motte, and
Teraflbn, arraigned the taftc of the anciei^ts j and
Dcs Cartes and Malebranchc affedted to defpifi?
their philofophy. Yet it feemed to be allowed in
general, that thcftudy of the Claffic Authors was*
a neceffary part of polite education. This, hgw-
ever, has of late been not only queftioned, but
denied: and it has been faid, that every thing
worth prefervin^ of ancient literature might be
more eafily tranfmittcd, both to ys and to pofteri-
ty^ through the channel of the modern languages,
thap through that of the Greek and Latin. On
xhisfubjcflt, fevcral flight eflays have been written-,
G g 3 the
454 • ON THE USEFULNESS OF
the authors of which feem to think, that the
human mind, being now arrived at maturity, may
fafely be left to itfdf -, and that the Claffic au-
thors, thofe great inftruftors of fofmer times,
arc become an incumbrance to the more fprightly
genius of the prefent.
•' For who, that is an adept in the philofophy
•* of Locke and Newton, can have any need of
" Ariftotle ? What ufcful precept of the Socra-
*• tic .ichool has been overlooked by modern
^' moralifts ? Is not Geometry as fairly, and as
•' fully difplayed in the French and Englifh
" tongues, as in the unknown dialedts of Archi-
** medes, Apollonius, and Euclid? Why have
•* recourfe to Demoithenes and Cicero, for ex-
«* amplcs in an art, which MaffiUon, Bourdaloue,
•* and the French academicians (to fay nothing
•* of the orators of our own country), have car-
•' ried to perfedlion ? Are we not taught by Vol-
*' taire and his Editoxs, who, though ignorant of
*' Greek, are well read in Madam Dacier's tran-
** flations, that Taffo is a better poet than Homer 5
** and that the fixth and feventh cantocs of the
** Henriade are alone more valuable than the
** whole Iliad*? What Pfamatic poet of anti-
" quity is to be compared with the immortal
^« Shakefpeare ? What fatirift with Pope, who, to
** the fire and elevation of Juvenal, joins the wit,
*' thetaRe, and fententious morality of Horace?
•* As to cricicifm : is there in Ariftotlf, Diony^^
* • See Le Vicende dclh Litcrarura, p. 166.
« fius,
7
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 455
^ fius, Cicero, Quintilian, or Longinus, any
'< thing that is not more philofbphically txpWwxdf
*• and better illuftratcd by examples, in the writ-
** ings of Dacier, Rollin, Fenelon, Dryden, and
*« Addifon ?— — And then, how debafing to an
*' ingenuous mind is the drudgery and difcipline
•* of our public fchools ! That the beft days of
^* youth fliould be embittered by confinement,
** amidft the gloom of folitude, or under the
** fcourge of tyranny ; and all for no purpolc,
•* but that the memory may be loaded with the
*' words of two languages that have been dead up-
^^ wards of a thoufand years : — is it not an abfur-
•' dity too grofs to admit of exaggeration ? To
•^ fee a youth of fpirit hanging over a mufty
^' folio, his cheek p^le with watching, his brow
•5 furrowed with untimely wrinkles, his health
^* gone, and every power of his foul enervated
•* with anxiety, and ftupificd with poring upon
♦* trifles,— what blood boils not with indignation,
♦* what heart melts not with forrow! And then
" the pedant, juft broken loofe from his cell,
*' bridling all o'er with Greek, and pufF'd with
*' pride,*' as Boileau fays ^ " his head fo full of
^ words, tb^t no room is left for idea? ; his ac-
" compliftiments fo highly prized by himfelf, as
^* to be intolerable to others ; ignorant of the
" hiftory, and untouched with the intereffs, of
^* his native country j-^-what an ufclefs, what an
^ odious animal ! Who will fay that education is
*• on a right footing, while its tendency is, to
G g 4 ♦^ create
45^ ON THE USEFULNESS OF
•* create fuch a monfter ! Ye parents, iiften, and
•* be wife. Would you have your children
«* healthy, and polite, znAfentimental? Let their
" early youth be employed in genteel exercifes j
•* the theatre, the coffee houfe, and the card-table,
«* will refine their tafte, inftruft them in public
♦« affairs, and produce habits of attention and
** contrivance ; and the French authors will make
•* them men of wit and fprightly converfation,
*> and give a certain/^ ne ffai quoi of elegance to
" their whole behaviour:— but for Greek and
^* Latin, the ftudy of Gronovius, Scaliger, and
•♦ Burman, the accomplilhment of Dutch Com-
^* mentators and Jefuits; — heavens! what has a
M man of falhion tq do with it !"
Moft of the difcourfes I have heard or read oi^
this fide of the queftion were in a fimilar flyle of
vague declamation, feafoned with high encomiums
on the French language and literature, and on thq
late difcovcries in phyfiology, for which we cannot
be faid to be indebted to any of the fages of
Greece and Rome, And how eafy is it to declaim
on fuch a topic! By blending fome truth with
your falfehood ; by giving to the latter the air of
harmkfs amplification, and by defcanting on the
abufes of ftudy, as if they were its natural confe-
cjuences, you may compofe a plaufible harangue;
which could not be fully anfwered without greater
wafte of time and patience, than the champion of
antiquity would think it worth his while to be*,
ftow.
It
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 437
It is however thought by many, who in my
opinion are competent judges, that an early slq^
quaintance with the claflics is the only foundation
of good learning, and that it is incumbent on all
who diredt the ftudies of youth, to have this great .
^bjeft continually before them, as a matter of the
nioft ferious concern ; for that a good tafte ia
literature is friendly both to public and to private
virtue, and of courfe tends to promote in no in*
confiderable degree the glory of a nation; and
that, as the ancients are more or kfs underftood,
the principles and the fpirit of found erudition
will ever be found to flourifh or decay. I (hall
therefore ftate as briefly as poflible fome of the
peculiar advantages that feem to me to accompany
this fort of ftudy ; with a view to obviate, if I
can, certain prejudices, which I am forry to ob-
ferve have of late years been gaining ground, at
leaft in the northern part of this ifland. The fub-
jcft is copious; but I doubt whether thofe ad-
verfarics to whom I now addrefs myfclf would
take the trouble to read a long differtation.
The objedtions that are commonly made to the
ftudy of the Greek and Latin authors, may per-
haps be reduced to four. It is faid, firft, ** that
" this mod(2 of education obliges the ftudent to
<* employ too much time in the acquifition of
«* words : — fecondly, th^t when he has acquired
^* thefe languages, he does not find that they re-
<* pay his toil :— thirdly, that the ftudies of a
S* Grammar-fchool have a tendency to encumber
*f the genius, and to weaken, rather than im-
^" prove,
458 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
« prove, the human mind :— and, laftly, thatthof
^< claflic authors contain many defcriptions and
*^ do£trines that may feduce thfe underftanding,
f^ inflame the paffions, and corrupt the heart/'
I. !• In anfwer to the firfl: objedion, I would
obferve, that the plan of ftudy mufl: be very bad,
v^here the ftudent's health is hurt by too clofe api>
plication. Some parents and teachers have thought,
that the proficiency of the fcholar muft be in pro-
portion to the number of hours he employs in
conning his ta(k: but that is a great mi(take«
Experience proves, that three or four hours a-day,
properly employed in the grammar-fchool, have
a better effecfc than nine ; and are fufficient to lay
within a few years a good foundation of claflical
knowledge. Dunce^, it is true, might require
more time ; but dunces have nothing to do ^ith
Greek and Latin: For ftudics that yield neither
delight nor improvement are not only fuperfluou^
but hurtful ; becaufe they mifemploy thofe facul-
ties which nature had deftined to other purpofes^
At the fame time, therefore, that young men are
profecuting their grammatical ftudies, they may
learn writing, drawing, arithmetic, and the prin-^
ciples of geometry ; and may devote the intervals
of leifure to riding, fencing, dancing, and other
manly exercifes. Idlenefs is the greateft misfor-
tune incident to early years; the diftempers it
breeds in the fcul are numberlcfs and incurable.
And where children, during their hours of relaxa-
tion, arc left at their own difpofal, they too often
make choice of criminal amufement and bad com-
pany.
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 459
pariy. At iSparta, the youth were contiiHially
lander the infpeftion of thofe who had authority
over them ; their education, fays Plutarch, was
one continued exercife of obedience ; but it was
never faid, that the Spartan youth became torpid,
or melancholy, or fickly, from want of amufe-
ment. Where-ever there is a fchool, there ought
to be, and generally is, a field or area for divcr-
fipns ; and if the hours that boys in this country
fpend with one another, that is, in faqntering,
and too often in gaming, quarrelling, and fwear-
ing, were to be devoted to exercife, under the eye
of fome perfon of prudence, their fouls and
bodies would both be the better for it; and a
great deal of time left for the ftudy of many
branches of knowledge, befides what is contained
in the grammar, and ancient authors. The mis-
fortune is, that we allot too much of their time,
pot to play, but to idlenefs ; and hence it hap-
pens^ that their claffical ftudies interfere with other
neceflary parts of education. But it is certain,
that their ftudies and amufements might be made
perfeftly confident ; and the culture of the mind
promoted at the fame time with that of the body.
If both thefe ends are not always accomplifhed,
and but feldom purfued, the blame is to be laid,
neither on the teacher, nor on the things that are
taught, but on. thofe perfons only who have the
power ot reforming our fchool-difcipline, and
want the inclination. Ac any rate, the blame
cannot be laid on the Claffic Authors, or on thofe
yery ufefgl members of a commonwealth, the
compilers
'46o ON THE USEFULNESS OF
compilers of grammars and didionaries. For the
faculties of children might be diffipated by idle-
nefs, their manners poifoned by bad company, or
their health impaired by injudicious confincmcntt
though Greek and Latin were annihilated.
^. It is another abufe of ftudy, when the hours
of attendance in a grammar-fchool are all employ*
cd in the acquifition of words. If a child find
nothing but words in the old authors, it muft be
owing to the ftupifying influence of an ignorant
teacher. The moft interefting part of profane
hiftory is delivered by the writers of Greece ancj
Rome. From them alfo we may learn the purefi:
precepts of yninfpired morality, delivered in the
Eqoft enchanting language, illuftrated by the hap-i
pieft allufions, and enforced by the moft pertinent
examples, and mod emphatic reafoning. Whatt
ever is amufive and inftruflive in fable, whatever
in defcription b beautiful, or in compofition har^
monious, whatever can footh^ or awaken the h,u^
man paflion$, the Greek and Roman authors have
carried to perfeftion. Th.at children fliould enter
into all thefe beauties, is not to be imagined ; but
that they may be made to comprehend them fo far
as to be improved and delighted in a high degree^
admits of no doubt. Together with the words,
therefore, of thefe two celebrated languages, they
may learn, without any additional expence of time,
the principles of hiftory, morality, politics, geo«r
graphy, and criticifm ; which, when taught in a.
foreign dialedt, will perhaps be found to leave a
deeper
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 461
deeper impreflion upon the memory, than when
explained in the mother tongue. The young
ftudent fhould be equally attentive to the phrafe-
ology and to the fubjed of his lefTon ; and receive
directions for analyling the one, as well as for
conftruing the other. He ought to read his au*
thors, firll as a grammarian, fecondly as a philo-
fopher, and laftly as a critic ; and all this he may
do without difficulty, and with delight as well as
profit, if care is taken to proportion his taflc to his
years and capacity. Nor let it be fuppofed, that
the firft principles of grammar are more intelli-
gible to a young mind, than the rudiments of
philofophy and rhetoric. In matters within their
fphere, do we not find that children can diftinguifh
between truth and falfehood ; perceive the con-
neftion of caufes and efFeftsi infer an obvious
conclufion from plain premifes, and even make
experiments upon nature for the regulation of their
condudl ? And if in mufic, and drawing, and
penman(hip, and phrafeology, the tafte of a child
is improvable, why not in compofition and ftyle, ^
the cadence of periods, and the harmony of verfe,
- probability of fable, and accuracy of defcription?
The more we attend to an author's fubjedt, the
greater proficiency we (hall make in his language.
To underftand the fubjeft well, it is neceffary to
(ludy the words and their connexion with a cri-
tical eye; whereas, even v^^hen his knowledge of
the words is very fuperficial, a fcholar or tutor,
who attends to nothing elfe, may think himfelf
fufficiently acquainted with the author's meaning
Tnc
462 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
The mere Grammatical teacher will never be
found to have any true tafte for his author; if he
had, it would, be impofflble for him to confine
himfelf to verbal remarks : he muft give fcope to
his admiration or difguft, if he really feel thofc
paffions ; and muft therefore communicate to the
pupil fome portion of his own enthufiafm or
fagacity.
3. The mental faculties of children ftand as
much in need of improvement, and confequently
of exercife, as their bodily powers. Nor is it of
fmall importance to dcvifc fome mode of difci-
pline for fixing their attention. When this is not
done, they become thoughtlefs and diffipated to
a degree that often unfits them for the bufincfs of
life.
The Greeks and Romans had a juft fenfc of the
value of this part of education. The youth of
Sparta, when their more violent exercifcs were
over, employed themfelves in works of ftratagem j
which in a ftate, where wealth and avarice were
unknown, could hardly be carried to any criminal
exccfs. When they met together for converfa-
lion, their minds were continually exerted in
judging of the morality of adlions, and the ex-
pcfdiency of public meafures of government; or
in bearing with temper, and retorting with fpirir,
the farcafms of good-natured raillery. They were
obliged to exprefs themfelves, • without hefitation,
in the feweft and plaineft words poffible. Thefe
inftitutions muft have made them thoughtful, and
attentive.
CLASSICAL LEARNiNG, 46J
attentive, and obfcrvant both to men and things.
And accordingly, their good fenfe, and penetra*
tion, and their nervous and fententious flyle, were
no lefs the admiration of Greece, than their fo-
briety, patriotifm, and courage. For the talent
of faying what we call good thingSj they were emi-
nent among all the nations of antiquity. As they
never piqued themfelves on their rhetorical powers,
it was prudent to accuftom the youth to filencc
and few words. It made them modeft and
thoughtful. With us very fprightly children
fomctimes become very dull men. For we arc
apt to reckon thofe children the fprightlieft, who
talk the mod : and as it is not eafy for them to
think and talk at the fame time, the natural efFeft
of their too much fpeaking is too little thinkings
— At Athens, the youth were made to ftudy their
own language with accuracy both in the pro-
nunciation and compofition ; and the meaneft of*
the people valued themfelves upon their attain-
ments in this way. Their orators muft have had
a very difficult part to aft, when by the flighteft
impropriety they ran the hazard of difgufting the
whole audience : and we (hall not wonder at the
efFedls produced by the harangues of Demo-
flhenes, or the extraordinary care wherewith thofe
harangues were compofed, when we recoiled, that
the minuteft beauty in his performance muft have
been perceived and felt by every one of his hearers.
It has been matter of furprife to fome, that Cicero,
who had fo trge a relilh for the fevcre fimplicity
of
4^4 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
of the Athenian orator, fhould himfelf in hi*
orations have adopted a ftyle fo diffufe and dccla-^
matory. But Cicero knew what he did. He had
a people to deal with< who, compared with the
Athenians, might be called illiterate * 5 and to
whom Demofthenes would have appeared a^ infipid,
as Cicero would have feemed pompous and in-
flated to the people of Athens. In every part of
learning the Athenians were ftudious to excel.
Rhetoric in all its branches was to them an objedt
of principal confideration. From the (lory of So-
crates we may learn, that the literary fpirit was
keener at Athens, even in that corrupted age,
than at any period in any other country. If a
perfon of mean condition, and of the lowcft for-
tune, with the talents and temper of Socrates,
were now to appear, inculcating virtue, diffuading
from vice, and recommending a right ufe of rca-
fonj not with the grimace of an enthufiaft, or the
rant of a declaimer, but with good humour, plain
language, and found argument, we cannot fup-
pofc, that the youth of high rank would pay him
much attention in any part of Europe. As a
juggler, gambler, or atheift, he might perhaps
attract their notice, and have the honour to do no
little mifchief in fome of our clubs of young
v7ortI.ies 5 but from virtue and modefty, clothed
in rags, I fear they would not willingly receive
• Cicero himfelf acknowledges, that many of the Romans
were very incompetent judges of rheioiical merit,— Haec cmba
ct bavbariri foreiifis dat iocum vel vitiofifllmis Oiatoribus. Do
Orat. lib. I« § u8«
improve-
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 465
Improvement* — The education of the Romans,
from the time they began to afpire to a literary
charader, was fimilar to that of the Athenians*
The children were taught to fpeak their own lan-
guage with purity, and made to ftudy and tranf-
late the Greek authors. The laws of the twelve
tables they committed to memory. And as the
talent of public fpeaking was not only ot-namental,
but even a neceflary qualification, to every maa
who wifhed to diftinguilh himfelf in a civil or
military capacity, all the youth were ambitious to
acquife it. The ftudy of the law was alfo a
matter of general concern. Even the children
ufed in their diverfions to imitate the procedure of
public trials } one ^ccufing, and another defend-
ing, the fuppofed criminal: and the youth, and
many of the moft refpeftable ftatefmen, through
the whole of their lives, allotted part of their
leifure to the exercife of declaiming on fuch topics
as might come to be debated in the forum, in the -
fenate, or before the judges.. Their domeftic dif-
cipline was very ftrift. Some ancient matron, of
approved virtue, was appointed to fuperintend
•the children in their earlieft years; before whom
every thing criminal in word or deed was avoided
as a heinous enormity. This venerable perfon
was careful both to inftil good principles into her
pupils, and alfo to regulate their amufcmencs,
and^ by preferving their minds pure from moral
turpitude, and intelledlual depravation, to pre-
pare them for the ftudy of the liberal arts and
fciences. — It may alfo bt remarked, that the "
H h Greeks
466 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
Greeks and Romans were more accurate ftudents
than the moderns are. They had few books^ and
thofe they had were not eafily come at : what they
read, therefore, they read thoroughly. I know
not, whether their way of writing and making up
their volumes, as it rendered the perufal more
difficult, might not alfo occafion a more durable
remembrance. From their convcrfation-picccs, and
other writings, it appears, that they had a (ingular
facility in quoting their favourite authors. Demoft-
hcnes is faid to have tranfcribed Thucydides eight
times, and to have got a great part of him by heart.
This is ^a degree of accuracy, which tne greater part
of modern readers have no notion of. We fecm ta
think it more creditable to read many books fuper-
ficially, than to read a few good ones with care ;
and yet it is certain, that by the latter method we
Ihould cultivate our faculties, and increafe our
dock of real knowledge, more efFeftually, and
perhaps more fpeedily, than we can do by the
former, which indeed tends rather to bewilder the
mind, than to improve it. Every man, who pre-
tends to a literary charadler, mull now read a
number of books, whether well or ill written,
whether inftruftive or infignificant, merely that he
may have it to fay, that he has read them. And
therefore I am apt to think, that, in general,
the Greeks and Romans muft have been more
improved by their reading, than we are by ours.
As books multiply, knowledge is more widely dif-
fufed ; but if human wifdom were to increafe in
tl}e fame proportion^ what children would the an-
cients
CLASSICAL LEARNlJ^G. 467
tic nts be, in comparifon of the moderns ! of whom
every fubfcribcr to the circulating library would
have it in his power to be wifcr than Socrates,
and moTt accomplifhed than Julius Cefar !
I mention thefe particulars of the Greek and
Roman difcipline, in order to Ihow, that, although
the ancients had not fo many languages to ftud/
as we have, nor fo many books to read, they
were however careful, that the faculties of their
children fhould neither languilh for want of cxer-
cife, nor be exhaufted in frivolous employment.
As we have not thought fit to imitate them in
this ; as moft of the children of modern Europe,
•who are not obliged to labour for their fuftenance,
muft either ftudy Greek and Latin, or be idle ;
(for as to cards, and fome of the late publications
of Voltaire, I do not think the ftudy of either
half fo ufeful or fo innocent as (huttlecock), — ^I
ihould be apprehenfive, that if Claflical Learning ^
were laid afide, nothing would be fubftituted in
its ftead, and that our youth would become alto-
gether diffipated. In this refpeft, therefore,
namely, as the means of improving the faculties
of the human mind, I do not fee, how the ftudies
of the Grammar^fchool can be difpenfcd with.
Indeed, if we were, like the favages, continually
employed in fearching after the neceffaries of life;
or if, like thefirft Romans, our fituation or temper
involved us in perpetual war, I fhould perhaps
allow literary improvement of every kind to be
little better than a coftly iupcrfluity 5 and if any
H h 2 one
468 . ON THE USEFULNESS OF
one were difpofed.to aQircn, that in fuch a ftate
men may enjoy a greater fharc of animal pkafure,
than all the ornaments of art and luxury can
furnilh, I (hould not be eager to controvert his
opinion. But I take for granted, that man is
> deftincd for fomething noGler than mere animal
enjoyment ; that a date of continual war or un-
polilhed barbarity is unfavourable to our bcft in-
terefts, as rational, moral, and immortal beings ;
that competence is preferable to want, leifurc to
tumult, and benevolence to fury : and I fpeak of
the arts, not of fupporting, but of adorning hu-
man life 5 not of rendering men infenfible to cold
and famine ; but of enabling them to bear, with-
out being enervated, and enjoy without being cor-
rupted, the blcffings of a more profperous condi-
tion.
4. Much has be^n faid, by fome writers, on
the impropriety of teaching the ancient languages
by book, when the modern tongues arc mod
eafily acquired, without the help of gramnbars or
diftionaries, by fpeaking only. Hence it has been
propofed, that children (to whom the ftudy of
grammar is conceived to be a grievous hardihip).
Ihould learn Latin by being obliged to fpe^k it ;
for that, however barbarous their ftyle may be at
firft, it will gradually improve ; till at length,
though with little knowledge of rules, merely by
the force of habit, they attain to fuch a cotnm^nd
of that tongue, as an Englifliman may of the
French, by r^fidipg a few years at Pari^. Upon
this
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 469
this principle, fome: projeftors have thought of
eftablifhing a Latin city, whither children fhould
be fent to learn the language ; Montaigne's father
made Latin the common dialeft of his houfeholcj * j
and
♦ Eflals de MoMaigne, liv. 2. chap. 17.— On thefubjea
of obliging childrca to Tpeak Latin before they have acquired
a tafte in it, I beg leave to quote the following paflage from an
author, whofe judgment in thefe matters mull be allowed to
be of the very highefl authority.
** With this way of good underftandirig the matter, plain
^* conftrning, diligent pariing, daily tranflating, cheerful ad-
^ monifhing, and heedful amending of faults, never leaving
^* behind jud praife for welUdoing« I would haVe the fcholar
*^ brought up withal, till he had read and tranflated over the
** firft book of (Cicero's) Epiftles chofen out by Sturmius,
** with a good piece of a Comedy of Terentc alfo, All
" this while, by mine advice, the child fhall ufe to fpeak no
** Latin. For, as Cicero faith io like matter, with like words,
*' Loquendo maUloqui M/cunt, And that excellent learned man
** G* Budeus, in his Greek commentaries, ibre compldineih, that
** when he began to learn the Latin tongue, ufe of fpeaking
*^ Latin at the table, and elfewhere, unadvifedly, did bring him
•* to fuch an evil choice of words, tofuch a crooked framing of
^' fentences, that no one thing did hurt or hinder him more all
** the days of his life afterward, both for readinefs in fpeaking,
** and alfo good judgment in writing, — In very deed, if chil-
*• dren were brought up in fuch a houfe, or fuch a fchoal,
«* where the Latin tongue were properly and perfectly fpoken,
«* as Tiberius and Caius Gracchi were brought up in their
** motheL Cornelia's houfe; furely then thq daily ufe oi fpeak-
•' ing were thebeft and readied way to learn the Latin tongue.
" But now, commonly in the beft fchools in England, for words,
•* right choice is fmally regarded, true propriety wholly negipi^-
*' ed, confufion isbroaghtin, barbaroufnefsisbred up foin young
•* wits, as afterwards they be not only marred for fpeaking, but
•• alfo corruptedin judgment, as with much ado, or never at all,
H h 3 ' " ihey
470 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
and many philofophers and teachers have laid i%
down as a rule, chat in the grammar- fchool no-
thing but Latin or Greek fhould ever he fpoken.
All thiji, or at leaft part of it, is very well, if
we fuppofe the fole defign of teaching thefe lan-
guages to be, that children may ipeak ar^d write
them as eaQly and incorredly, as perfons unac*
quainted with grammar, and with the rules and
models of good compofition, do commonly fpeak
and write their mother-tongue. But fuch a talent,
though on fome rare occafions in life it might b&
lifcrul, would not be attended with thofe certain
and more immediate advantages, that one has
rcafon to expedl from a regular courfe of claffical
ftudy. — For, firft, one ufc of claffic learning is,
to fill up the leifure hours of life with liberal a-r
mufemenr. Now thofe readers alone can be ad^--
** they be brought to tbe right frame again. — ^Yct all men covet
•* to have their children fpeak Latin, and fo do I very earneftly
** too. We both have one- purpofe, we agree in deiire, we
** wi(b one end ; but we diifer fomewhat in order and way that
'< leadeth rightly to |hat end. Other would have them fpeak
** at all adventures ; and fo they be fpeaking, to fpeak, the
*< mafler caretb not, the fcholar knoweth nqt, what. This is
** to feem, and not to be ; except it be, to be bold without
** fhame, rafti without fkill, fuJi/of words without wit. |
** wiih to have them fpeak fo, as it may well appear, that the
•• brain doth govern the tongue, and that reafon leadeth forth
** the talk'. — Good underftanding mud firft be bred in the chil-
*' dren ; which being nourifhed with feill, and ufe of writing^
•• is the only way to bring them to judgment and rcadinefs in
•* fpeaking." Afcham's Scholemafter, bqo^. i. See alfo Cicero
4p Of at, lib. I. § 150. edit, Prpuft,'
quatcly
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 471
quatejiy charmed with beauty of language, who
bavc attended to the rules of good writing, and
even to the niceties of grammar. For the mere
knowledge of words gives but little pleafure ; and
they who have gone no deeper in language cannot
even conceive the delight wherewith a man of
learning pcrufcs an elegant performance.— Second-
ly, J apprehend, that, in this way of converfa-
tion, unlefs you add to it the ftudy of grammar,
and of the beft authors, the praftice of many
years will not make you a competent matter in the
language. One mud always be fomething of a
grammarian to be able thoroughly to underftand
any well-written book ; but before one can enter
into the delicacies of expreffion that arc to be met
with in every page of a good Latin or Greek au-
thor, one muft be an accurate grammarian ; the
complicated inflexions and fyntax of thefe elegant
tongues giving rife to inniin^erable fubtleties of
connexion, and minute varieties of meaning,
^ whereof the fuperficial reader, who thinks gram-
mar below his notice, can have no idea. Befides,
the words and phrafes that belong to qonverfation,
are, comparatively fpcaking, not very numerous :
unlefs you read poets,, orators, hiftorians, and
philofophers too, you can never underftand a lan-
guage in its full extent. In Englifli, Latin,
Greek, and Italian, and, I believe, in moft other
cultivated, tongues, the poetical and rhetorical
ftyles differ greatly from that of common dif-
courfe •, and one may be a tolerable proficient in
the one, who is ignorant of the other. — But third-
H h 4 ly.
472 OF THE USEFULNESS OF
ly, I would obfcrve, that the ftudy of a fyftem
of grammar, fo complex and fo perfeft as the
Greek or Latin, may, with peculiar propriety,
be recommended to children j being fuited to
thei,^ underftanding, and having a tendency to
promote the improvement of all their mental fa-
culties. In this fcience, abftrufe as it is common-
ly imagined to be, there are few or no difEcuhics
which a mafter mav not render intelligible to any
boy of good partsJ before he is twelve years old^
Words, the matter of this fcience, are within the
reach of every child 5 and of thefe the human
mind, in the beginning of life, is known to be
fufceptible to an aftonilhing degree : and yet in
this, fcience there is a fubtlety, and a variety, fufR-
cient to call forth all the intelledual powers of the
young ftudenr. When one hears a boy analyfe a
few fentences of a Latin author ; and (how that
he not only knows the general meaning, and the
import of the particular *words, but alfo can in-
ftantly refer each word to its clafs -, enumerate all
its terminations, fpecifying every change of fenfe,
however minute, tha; may be produced by a
change pf inflexion or arrangement ; explain its
feveral dependencies 5 diftinguifh the literal meaning
from the figurative, one fpecies of figures from
another *, and even the philofophical ufe of words
from
. • The elements of Rhetoric fhould always* be taught in
conjun^ion with thofe of Grammar. The Former would make
the lat er more eiitertaining ; and, by fetiing the various parts
of language in a new light, would give rife lo new energies in
the
rr>^.
CLASSICAL LEARNING 475
from the idiomatical, ^and the vulgar from the
elegant : recolle£ting occafionally other words and
phrafes that are fynonymous, or contrary, or of
difierent though fimilar figniBcation ; and ac«
counting for what he fays, either from the reafoa
of the thing, or by quoting a rule of art, or a
clafilcal authority : — one muft be fenfible, that,
by fuch an exercife, the memory is likely to be
more improved in ftrength and readinefs, the at-
the mind of the fludent, and prepare him for relifhing the
beauties and pradifing the rules of good writing, thus heighten*
ing the pleafure of ftudy, with little or no increafc of labour.
I doubt not but Butler's flippant remark, that *' All a Rheto-
** rician's rules ConHft in naming of his tools/' may have
brought the art into fome difrepute. Bat though this were a
true account (and it muft be a poor fyftem of rhetoric of
which this is a true account), the art might have its ufe no^-
withftanding. Nobody thinks the time loft to a young feaman,
which he employs in acquainting himfelf with the names and
ttfes of the feveral parts of a (hip, and of the other objedts that
demand the attention of the mariner: nor is the botanift idle,
while he treafures up in his memory the various tribes of vege-
tables : nor the aftronomer, while he numbers the conftellations,
and learns to call them by their names. In every art there are
tcrmsy which muft be familiar to thofe who underftand it, or
fpeak intelligibly about it,; and few arts are more complex than
literary compcfition. Befides, though fome of the tropes and
figures of fpeech are eafily dillinguiihed, others require a more
diificult fcrutiny, and fome knowledge even of the elementary
arrangements of philofophy. And the rules for applying the
elegancies of language, being founded in the fcience of human
nature, muft gradually lead the young rhetorician to attend to
what pafTes in his own mind ; which of all the fcenes of hu-
man obfcrvation is the moft important, and in the early part of
life the kaft attended to.
tention
474 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
tendon better fixed, the judgment and tafte nK)re
fuccefsfuUy exerted, and a habit of reflexion and
fubtle, difcrimination more eafily acquired, than it
could be by any other employment equally fuited
to the capacity of childhood. A year pafied in
this falutary exercife will be found to cultivate the
human faculties more than feven fpent in prattling
that French which is learned by rote : nor would
a complete courfc of Voltaire yield half fo much
improvement to a young mind, as a few books of
a good Claflic author, of Livy, Gicero, or Virgil*
lludied in this accurate manner.
I mean not to decry the French tongue, which
I know to be ufeful to all, and neceffary to many.
Far lefs would I infinuate any thing to difcourage
the ftudy of our own, which I think the fined in
the world ; and v/hich to a member of the Britilh
empire is of greater importance than all other lan-
guages. I only infift on the expediency of im-
proving young minds by a grammatical ftudy of
the Claflic tongues ; thefc being at once more
regular and more divcrjified th^n any of the modern,
and therefore better adapted to the purpofe of
cxercifing the judgment and the memory of the
fcholar. And I maintain, that every language,
and indeed every thing that i3 taught children,
Ihould be accurately taught ; being of opinion,
that the mind is more improved by a little ac-
curate knowledge, than by an excenfive fmattcr-
ino" ; and that it would be better for a young man
to be matter of Euclid or Demofthcnes, than to
have a whole didionary of arts and fcicnces by
heart.
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 475
heart. When he has once got a taflc of accuracy,
he will know the value and the method of it ;
and, with a view to the fame gratification, w^ll
habitually purfue the fame method, both in fci^
^nce, and in the general conduft of his affairs :
whereas a habit of fuperficiat thinking perverts
and enervates the powers of the fouU leaves many
of them to langui(h in total ina£tivity -, and is too
apt to make a man fickle and thoughtlefs, un-
principled and diffipated for life.
I agree with Roufleau, that the aim of educa-
tion fhould be, to teach us rather how to think,
than what to think ; rather to improve our minds
jfo as to enable us to think for ourfelves, than to
load the memory with the thoughts of other men.
No; that I would difcommend the acquifition of.
good principles, and juft notions, from whatever
fource they are drawn : for indeed the knowledge
of the mofl: ingenious man upon earth would be
very fcanty, if it were all to be derived from him-
fclf. Nay, as the parent muli in many cafes dircft
fhe conduct of the child, before the child call
difcern the reafons of fuch diredion, I am inclin-
ed to think, that fome important principles of
religion and morality may with good fuccefs be
jrnprinted on the memory of children, even be-
fore they can perfedly undcrftand the arguments
by which they may be proved, or the words in
which they are expreflcd^ But ftill it is true, tha^t
a mind prepared by proper difcipline for making
jdifcoveries of its ovvn, is in a much higher ftate
pf cuUiyfttjonj th^q ?hat of a mere fcholar who
knowu
\o
476 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
knows nothing but what he has been taught. The
latter refembles a granary, which may indeed be
fiUcd with corn, but can yield no more than it has
received; the former may be likened to a fruitful
field, which is ever in a condition to bring riches
and plenty, and multiplies an hundred fold every
grain that has been committed to it. Now this
peculiar advantage feems to attend the ftudy of
the Chflic authors, that it not only ftores the
mind with ufeful learning, but alfo begets a habit
of attention, and wonderfully improves both the
memory and the judgment.
5. That the grammatical art may be learned as
pcrfeftly from an Englifli or French, as from a
Greek or Latin grammar, no perfon will affirm,
who attends to the fubjeft, and can ftatc the com*
parifon.- Claflical learning, therefore, is neceflary
to grammatical fliill. And that the knowledge
of grammar tends to purify and preferve lan-
guage, might be proved, if a proof were requifite,
from many conCiderations. Every tongue is in-
corred, while it is only fpoken -, becaufe men
never ftudy it grammatically, till after they have
begun to write it, or compofe in it. And when
brought to' its higheft perfeftion, by the repeated
cRbrts, and accumulated refinements, of gram-
marians, lexicographers, philofophers, etymo-
logifts, and of authors in general, how incorrect-
ly is it fpoken and written by the unlearned !
How eafily do ungrammatical phrafes, the efFeft of
ignorance and affecbation, infinuate themfelves
into common difcourfe, and thence into writing !
and
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 477
and how difficult is it often found, notwlthftand-
ing all the remonftrances of learned men, to ex-
tirpate thofe phrafes from the language, or prevail
with the public to reform them ! Where grammar
was accurately ftudied, language has always been
elegant and durable: witnefs that of ancient
Greece, which, though it underwent confiderable
alterations, as all living languages muft do, re-
tained its purity for more than a thonfand years.
As grammar is neglefted, barbarifm muft prevail.
And therefore, the ftudy of Greek and Latin,
being neceflary to the perfedlion of the gramma-
tical art, muft alfo be neceflary to the permanence
and purity even of the modern tongues, and,
confequently, to the prefervation of our hiftory,
poetry, philofophy, and of every thing, valuable
in our literature. — Can thofe who wilh well to
learning or mankind ever feek to depretiate fo im-
'- portant a ftudy ? Or will it be faid, that the know-
ledge of grammar is unworthy of a gentleman,
or man of bufrnefs, when it is confidered, that
the moft profound ftatefmen, the ableft orators,
the moft elegant writers, and the greateft men,
that ever appeared on the ilage of public life, of.
whom I &all only mention Julius Cefar and
Cicero, were not only ftudious of grammar, but
moft accurate grammarians * ?
. 6. To all this we may add, that the difcipline
generally eftabliflied in fchools of learning inures
the youth to obedience and fubordination ; of
* Quintil. Orat. Inft. lib. i, cap. 4. See alfo 0/t^e origtH
l^nd progrefi of language^ vol, ii, p, 494.
6 which
478 ON THE tTSEFtJLNESS OF
which it is of infinite confeqacnce to their mQrat
improvement, as well as to the profperity of their
country, that they ftiould early be made fenfible.
— — But is not this difciplinc often too formal,
and too rigorous ? And if fo, does it not tend to
deprcfs the mind, by making it attentive to trifles,
and by giving an air of fervility to the genius, as
well as to the outward behaviour ? Thefc quef-
tions need no other anfwer, than the bare recital
of a fadt, which is obvious to all men ; that of
all the nations now exifting, ibat whofc general
charafter partakes the leaft of finicalnefs or fervi-
lity, and which has difplayed an elevation of
Ibyl, and a fpirit of freedom, which is without
example in the annals of mankind, is the moft re-
markable for ftriftnefs of difcipline in its fchools
and univerfities ; and feems now to be the only
nation upon earth that entertains a proper fenfe of
the value of Claffic erudition. A regard to order
and lawful authority is as favourable to true great-
nefs of mind, as the knowledge of method is to
true genius.
7. Some of my readers will pity, and fbme
probably laugh at me, for what I am going to fay
in behalf of a praftice, which is now in mofl:
countries both difufed and derided ; I mean that of
obliging the ftudent to compofe fome of his exer-
cifes in Latin vcrfc. " What ! (it will be faid),
•* do you, in oppofition to the fentiments of anti-
*' quity itfelf, and of all wife men in every age,
*' imagine, that a talent for poetry is to be com-
^* municated by rule, or acquired by habit ? Or
« if
CLASSICAL LEARNlKfCJ. 479
** if It could, would you wifli to fee us transform-*
** ed into a nation of vcrfifiers ? Poetry may have
** its ufe ; but it will neither fill our warehoufes,
** nor fertilife our foil, neither rig. our fleet, nor
** regulate our finances. It has now loft the
" faculty of building towns, felling timber, and
*' curing broken bones-, and I think it was never
** famous for replenifliing either the pocket, or
** the belly. No, no. Sir ; a garret in Grub-*
** ftreet, however honourable in your eyes, is not
•* the ftation to which I intend to breed my fon.**
Permit me to afk in my turn. Whether it is in
order to make them authors by trade, or for what
other purpofe it is, that boys have the talk enjoin-
ed them, of compofing themes and tranflations^
and performing thofe other exercifes, to which
writing is neceffary. I believe it will be allowed,
that habits of accurate thinking, and of fpeaking
correftly and elegantly, are ufcful and ornamental
in every ftation of life. Now Cicero and Quinti-
lian, and many other authors, affirm, that thefe
habits are. moft efFcdually acquired by the fre-
quent ufe of the pen * ; not in extrafting com-
mon places from books f , but in giving perma-
nence
. * Cicero dc Orat. lib, i. § 150. Edit. Pfoull. Quinti",
lnft*Or. lib. 10. cap. 3.
•j- To enable us to remember what we read, fome ai tbors
recommend a book of common-places, wherein we are defired
to write down, according to a certain artificial order, all thofe
pafTages that we wifh to add to our flock of learning. But
©;hcr authors, of equal judgment in thefe matters, have
blamed
48o ON THE USEFULNESS OP
ncnce and regularity to our own thoughts expref^^
in our own words. The themes and tranflations
performed by boys in a grammar-fcb(^l are th^
blamed this practice of writing out quotations* It is certaiir»
that when we read with a view to fill up common-places, we
are apt to attend rather to particular paflages, than to the fcope
and fpirit of the whole ; and that, having tranfcribed the fa-
vourite paragraph, we are not folicitous to remember it, as
knowing that we may at any time find it in our common-place
book. Beiides» life is (hort, and health precious ; and if we
dp not think more than we either write or read, our iludies
will avail us little. But this pradice of continual tranfcription
confames time, and impairs health, and yet conveys no im*
provement to the mind, becaufe it requires no thought, and
exercifes no faculty. Moreover, it inclines us to form ourfdves
entirely upon the fentiments of other men ; and as di£Ferenl
authors think difterently on many points, it. may make us
change our opinions fo often, that at lad we (hall come to have
no fixed principle at all.— And yet, on the other hand, it
mud be allowed, that many things occur, both in reading and
in experience, which ought not to be forgotten, and yet cannot
be prefcrvcd, uniefs committed to writing. Perhaps, then, it
is beft to follow a middle courfe ; and, when we regifter fafts
jor fentiments that occur in reading, to throw afide the author
from whom we take them, and do it in our own words. In
this way wriiing is profitable, becaufe it is attended with
thought and recoUe^ion, as well as pra^ice in compoiitfon.
Apd when we are fo much maflers of the fentiments of another
man as tu be able to exprefs them with accuracy in our own
words, then we may be faid to have digefted them, and made
them our own ; and then it is, and not before, that our under-
ftanding is reailyimproved by them. If we chufe to preferve
a fpecimen of an authoi's ftyle, or to tranfcribe any of his
thoughts in his own words on account of fomething that
Ulcafes in the expreffion, there can be no harm in this, provided
we do not employ ceo much time in ic.
beginnings
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 48*
t
beginnings of this falutgry praftice; and are
knov^n to have a happy cffcGt in forming the
jadgment) improving the memory, and quicken-
ing the invention^ of the young ftudent, in giving
him a command of words, a corre& phrafeology,
and a habit of thinking with accuracy and
oiechod.
Now, as the defign of thefe exercifes is not to
make men profefled profe-autbors, fo neither is
the praftice of verlifying intended to make them
.poets. I do not wi(h the jiumbers of verlifiers to
multiply; I ihall) if you pleafe, admit the old
jiiaxim, ^' Poeta nafcitur, non fit;" and that it
would be as eafy to foften marble into pincuQuons,
as to communicate the art of poetry to one who
wants the genius :
Sgo nee fiudium fine divite vena,
*Nec rude quid pofEt video ingcriiuin.
The pra&ice in queftion may, however, in my
judgment, be attended with fome good effects.
Firft, though we have for ever loft the true pro-
nunciation of Latin and Greeks yec the lefs falfe
our pronunciation is, the more agreeable and in-
telligible it will probably be. Vcrfification, there-
fore, confidcred as an exercife for exemplifying
and fixing in the mind the rules of profody, may
be allowed to have its ufe in correcting the pro-
nunciation. But-^ fecondly, it has a further ufe,
in heightening the charms of poetical compofition»
ty improviog our fenfe of poetical harmony. I
have already mentioned amufemcnt as one of the
I i advantages
482 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
advantages of claffic learning. Now good poetry
is doubly amufing to a reader who has ftudied and
t>Tadifed verfification ; as the Ihapes and colours
of animal and vegetable nature feem doubly beau-
tiful to the eye of a painter* ** I begin," fays
Pope, fpeaking of his proficiency in drawing, •* to
" difcover beauties that were till now imperccp-
•* tiblc to me. Every corner of an eye, or turn
** of a nofe or ear, the fmalleft degree of light or
" Ihade on a cheek or in a dimple, have charms to
" diftraft me ♦/' For the fame reafon, therefore,
that I would recommend drawing to him who wifhes
to acquire a true tafte for the beauties of nature,
I fhould recommend a little praftice in verfifying
to thofe who would be thoroughly fenfible to the
charm of poetic numbers, 'thirdly, this prafticc
is ftill more important, as it gradually fupplics the
ftudent with a (lore of words i thereby facilitating
the acquifition of the language: and as it ac-
cuftoms him to exert his judgment and tlifte, as
well as memory, in the choice of harmonious and
elegant expreffions. By compofing in profe, he
learns to think and fpeak methodically; and his
poetical exercifcs, under a proper direftion, will
inake the ornaments of language familiar to him,
and give precifion to his thoughts, and a vigorous
brevity to his ftylc. Thefe advantages may, I
prefume, be in fome degree attained, though his
vcrfes, unaided by genius, fhould never rife
above mediocrity : if the mufcs are. propi^
• Pope's Letters to Gay.
tiouS}
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 4*3
tious, his improvement will be proportion ably;
greater.
But is not this exercife too difficult ? and does
it not take up too much time ? Too much time it
ought not to take up ; nor fhould it be impofed
on thofe who find it too difficult. But if we con-
fult experience, we (hall find, that boys of ordi-
nary talents are capable of it, and that it never
has on any occafion proved detrimental to litera-
ture. I know feveral learned men who were in-
ured to it in their youth j but I never heard them
complain of its unprofitablenefs or difficulty : and
I cannot think, that Grotius or Buchanan, Milton
or Addifon, Browne or Gray ♦, had ever any rea-
fon to lament, as loft, the hours they employed
in this exercife. It is generally true, that genius
difplays itfelf to the beft advantage in its native
tongue. Yet is it to be wifhed, that the talent of
writing Latin verfe were a little more cultivated
among us ; for it has often proved the means of
extending the reputation of our authors, and con-
fequently of adding fomething to the literary
glories of Great Britain. Boileau is faid not to
• Ifaac Hawkins Browne, E'q; author of feveral excellent
poems, particularly one in Latin, on the ImmortaHty of the
foul; of which Mrs. Carter jnftly fays, that it does hoaour to
our couqtry.-— Mr. Gray of Cambridge, the author of the
fined odes, and of the fined moral elegy in [the world^ wrote
many elegant Latin poems in his youth, with fome of which
Mr. Mafon has lately obliged the public. — The Latin poems of
Grotius and. Buchanan, Milton and Addifon^ faav9 loog been
univerfaily admired* _i^--
I i a hara.
4*4 ON THE USEFULNESS CJT
have known that there were any good poets iilr
England; till Addffon made him a prefent of the
Mufie Attgticofue. Many of the fined perform-
ances of Pope, Dryden, and Milton, have ap*
peared not ungracefully in a Roman drefs. And
thofe foreigners mufl: entertain a high opinion of
our Paftoral poetry, who have feen thd Ladn
tranQations of Vincent Bourne,, particularly thofe
of the ballade of Tmeedfide^ William and Margaret^
and Rowe's Lifpairing be/ide^ a clear fiream ; oa
which it is no compliment ta fay, that in fweet*'
nefs of numbers, and elegant expreflion, they are
at leaft equal to the originals, and fcarce inferior
to any thing in Ovid or Tibullus.
Enough, I hope, has been faid to evince the
Utility of that mode of difcipline which for the
mofl: part is, and always, in my opinion, ought
to be, eftablifhed in grammar-fchools. If the
reader admit the truth of thefe remarks, he wilt
be fatisfied, that " the ftudy of the claffic authors
" docs not ncceffarily oblige the ftudent to em-
^* ploy tQO much time in the acquifition of words:**
for that by means of thofe words the mind may
be ftored with valuable knowledge •, and th^t the
acquifition of them, prudently conduA^, bfj-?
comes to young perfons one of the beft inftru-
ments of intelle£tual proficiency, which in the
prefent ft^te of h^man fo<:iety it is poSible to'
imagine.
II. I need not fpend much timie in refuting the
ftcond objection, «? That thefc languages, when
^ acquired
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 485
«^ acquire^ are aoc worth the labour." There
never was a tnaa of learning and tafte, who would
not deny the fa6t« Thofe perfons are mod delight^
cd with the ancient writers, who underftand them
bed I and none afieA to defpife them, but they
who are ignorant of their value.— Whether the
pkafure and profit arifing from the knowledge of
the Claffic tongues is fufiicient to repay the toil of
acquiring them, is a point which thole only who
have made the acquificion are entitled to determine.
And they, we are fure, will determine in the af-
firmative. The admirer of Homer and Demo-
fihenes, Virgil and Cicero, Xenophon and Cefar,
Herodotus and Livy, will tell us, that he would
not for any confideration give up his fkill in the
language of thofe authors. Every man of learn-
ing wiihes; that his fon may be learned ; and that
not fo much from a view to pecuniary advantage^
as from a defire to have him fupplied with the
means of ufeful inftrudbion and liberal amufement.
It is true, that habit will make us fond of trifling
purfuits, and miftake imaginary for real excellence.
The being accuftomed to that kind of ftudy, and
perhaps alfo the pride, or the vanity, or (imply
the confcioufnefs, of being learned, may account
for part of the pleafure that attends the per-
ufal of the Greek and Roman writers. But fure
. it is but a fmall part which may be thus accounted
for. The Greeks were more paflionate admirers
cf Homer and Demofthenes, and the Romany of
Virgil and Cicero, than we i and yet were not
under the neceflicy pf employing fo mucl^ time- in
?^ 3 th^
486 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
the ftody of thefe authors, nor, coBf^quently, fo
liable tocontradt a liking from long acquatntance»
or to be proud of an accompliOiment which was
common to them with all their countrymen.
The knowledge of the clafllcs is the beft foun-
dation xo the ftudy of Law, Phyfic, Thcok>gy,
Rhetoric, Agriculture, and other honourable arts
and iciences. In polite nations, and in compa^
nies where the rational charaAer is held in any
efteem, it has generally been regarded as a recom-o
mendatory talent. As a (burce of recreation, for
filling up the intervals of leifure, its importance
has been acknowledged by many names of the
higheft authority. And furely the Mufes are
more elegant, more inftrudtive, and more
pleafing companions, than dogs, horfes, gam-
blers, or fots: and in attending to the wifdom
of former ages, we may be thought to pafs our
time to better purpofe, than in hearing or helping
«bout the cenfures, calumnies, and other follies,
of the prefcnt.
III. It has been faid, that " fchooMearning
** has a tendency to encumber thfe genius, and
♦• to weaken, rather than improve the mind.*'
Here opens another 6eld for declamation. Who
has not heard the learned formality of Ben John-
fon oppofed to Shakcfpear*s " native wood- notes
«' wild ;" and inferences made from the compari-
fon, to the difcredit, not of the learned poet only,
but of learning iifclf? Milton, too, is'thought by
feme to have poffeffed a fuperfluity of erudition,
as well as (o have been too qdentauous in difplay-
ing
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 487
ing it. And "the ^rjcients . are fuppofed to have
derived, great benefit from their not being obliged,
' as we are, to iludy a number of languages.
It is true, a man may be fo intemperate in readn
ing, as to hurt both his body and his mind. They
who always read, and never think, become pe-
dants and changelings. And thofe who employ
the beft part of their time in learning languages,
arc rarely found to make proficiency in art or
fcience. To gain a perfeft knowledge even of
one tongue, is a work oiF much labour ; though .
fome men have fuch a talent this way as to ac-
quire, with moderate application, a competent
fkill in feveral. Milton, before he was twenty
years old, had compofed verfes in Latin, Italian,
and Greek, as well as in Englifti. But the gene-
' rality of minds are not equal to this ; nor is it
neceffary they fhould. One may be very fenfible
of the beauties of a foreign tongue, and may read
it with eafe and pleafure, who can neither fpeak
it, nor compofe in it. And, except where the
genius has a facility in acquiring them, and a
ftrong bias to that fort of ftudy, I would not re-
commend it to a young man to make himfelf
matter of many languages. For, furely, to be
able to exprefs the fame thought in the dialefts of
ten different nations, is not the end for which man
was fent into the world.
The prefent objedtion, as well as the former, is
founded on what eVery man of letters would call
a miftake of fadl. No perfon y/ho underftands
Greek and Latin will ever admit, that thefe Ian*
I i 4 guages
488 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
guages can be an incumbrance to the mind. Ad^
perhaps it would be diiEcult to prove, even by a
fingle ihftanccy chat genius was ever hurt by
learning. Ben Johnfon*s misfortune was> not
that he knew too much, but that he could not
make a proper ufe of his knowledge ; a misfbr-
tune, which arofe rather from a defeft of genius
or tafte, than from a fuperabundance of erudition.
With the fame genius, and lefs learning, he would
probably have made a worfe figure. — His play o^*
Catiline is an ill-digefted coUeftion of fafts and
paflages from Salluft. Was it his knowledge of
Greek and Latin that prevented his making a better
choice ? To comprehend every thing the hiftorian
has recorded of that incendiary, it is not requifite
that one fliould be a great fcholar ^ for by look-
ing into Rofe's tranflation, any man who under-^
ftands Englifh may make himfelf mafter of the
whole narrative in half a day. It was Johnfon*s
want of tafte, that made him transfer from the
liiftory to the play fome paflages and fafts that
fuit not the genius of the drama: it was want of
tafte, that made him difpofc his materials accord-
ing to the hiftorical arrangement; which, how-
ever favourable to calm information, is not caU
ciliated for working thofc effefts on the palEons
arid fancy, which it is the aim of tragedy to pro-
duce. It v/as the fame want of tafte, that made
him, out of a rigid attachment to hiftorical truth,
lengthen his piece with fupernumcrary events in-
confiftent with the unity of dcfign, and not fub-
fervicnt
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 489
fcrvient ta the cataftrophe ; and it was doubtlefs
owiflg to want of invention^ that be confined
bimfelf fo ftri^lly to the letter of the ftory. ' Had
he recoUeded the advice of Horace (of which
he could not be ignorant, as he tranflated the whole
poem into Engliih verfe), he muft have avoided
fome of thefe faults :
Publica materies privati juris crit, fi
Non circa vilem patulumque moraberis Grbem^
Nee verbum verbo curabis reddere, fidus
Interpres ; nee defilies imitator in ardum,
Unde pedem proferre pudor vetat, aut operis lex *•
A little more learning, therefore, or rather a
more feafonable application of what he had, would
have been of great ufe to the author on this oc-
cafion. Shakcfpeare's play of Julius Ccfar is^
founded on Plutarch's life of Brutus. The poet
has adopted many of the incidents and fpeeches
recorded by the hiftorian, whom he had read in
Sir Thomas North's tranilation. But great judg^*
pient appears in the choice of paflages. Thofe
events and fentiments that either are afFefting in
themfelvcs, or contribute to the difplay of human
charafters and paffions, he has adopted ; what
fcemed unfuitable to the dramra is omitted. By
reading Plutarch and Sophocles in the original,
together with the Poetics of Ariftotle and Horace's
cpiftle to the Pifoes, Shakefpeare might have niade
• Ar. Poet. verf. 135, See Dr. Hurd's elegant coxnmeotarj
4ndn tes.
- this
490 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
this tragedy better ; but I cannot conceive how^
foch a preparation, had the poet been capable of
it, could have been the caufe of his making it
worie* — It is very probable, that the inftance of
Shakefpeare may have induced fome perfons to
thkik unfavourably of the influence of learnkig
upon genius ; but a conclufion fo important ihould
jibt be inferred from one inftance, efpecially when
that is allowed to be extraordinary, and almoft
fupcrnatural. From the phenomena of fo tran-
fcendenc a genius, we muft not judge of human
nature in general ; no more than we are to take
the rules of Britiih agriculture from what is
praftifcd in the Summer Iflands.— Nor let it be
any objedion to the utility of clafTic learnings
that we oftcQ meet with men of excellent parts^
whofe faculties were never improved", either by
the dodlrine or by the difcipline of the fchoojs*
A f>raaice which is not indifpenfably neceflary^
may yet be ufeful. We have heard of merchants^
^ho could hardly write or read, fuperintending an
cxtenlive commerce, and acquiring great wealth
j^nd efteem by the moft honourable means : yet
who will fay, that Writing and Reading are not
ufeful to the merchant ? There have been men
eminent both for genius and for virtue, who in
the- beginning of life were almoft totally ne-
gle<Sted: yet who will fay, that the care of
|)arents, and early habits of virtue and refleftion,
are not of infinite importance to the human
mind? • - •
- . Miltpn
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 491
- Mitton was one of the moft learhed men this
nation ever produced. But his great learning
neither impaired his judgment, nor checked his
imagination. A richer vein of invention, as well
as a more correft tafte, appears in the Paradiie
Loft, written when he was near fixty years d
age, than in any of his earlier performances.
Paradife Regained, and Samfon Agoniftes, which
were his laft works, are not fo full of inlagery,
nor admit fo much fancy, as many of his other
pieces -, but they difcovcr a confummate judg-
ment; and little is wanting to make each of them
perfedb in its kind. 1 am not offended at that
profufion of learning which here and there ap-<
pears in the Paradife Loft. It gives a claflical air
to the poem : it refrelhes the mind with new ideas ;
and there is fomething, in the very found of the
names of places and perfons whom he celebrates,
that is not unpleafing to the ear. Admit all this
to be no better than pedantic fuperfluity ; yet wiU
it not follow, that Milton's learning did him any
harm upon the whole, provided it appear to have
improved him in matters of higher importance,
.And that it did fo, is undeniable. This poet is
not more eminent for ftrength and fublimity of
genius, than for the art of his compofuion ; which
he owed partly to a fine tafte in harmony, and
partly to his accurate knowledge of the ancienc$.
The ftyle of his numbers has not often been imi*
tated with fuccefs. It is not merely the want of
rhyme, nor the diverfified pofition of paufes,, nor
the
49^ O!* THE USEFULNESS OF
4'ie drawing out of the fenfe from one line to ano-»'
Cher ; far Icfs is it the mixture of antiquated words
and ftrange idioms, that conftitutes the charm of*
Milton's verfification i though many of his imi-
tators, when they copy him in thefe or in fome of
:Chefe refpeds, think they have acquitted them-
felves very well. But one muft fludy the belt
jClaflic authors with as much critical fkill as Mil-
ton did, before one can pretend to rival him in the
art of harmonious writing. For, after all the
rules that can be given, there is fomething in this
art, which cannot be acquired but by a careful
ftudy of the ancient matters, particularly Homer,
Demofthenes, Plato, Cicero, and Virgil; every
one of whom, or at lead the two firft and the laft,
it would beeafy to prove, that Milton has imitated,
jn the conftrtiiftion of his numbers. In a word,
we have reafon to conclude that Milton's genius,
;nftead of being overloaded or encumbered, was
greatly improved, enriched, and refined, by his
learning. At leaft we are fure this was his own
opinion. Ndver was there a more indefatigable
ftudent. And from the fuperabundance of ClalHc
allufions to be met with in every page of his
poetry, we may guefs how highly he valued the
literature of Greece and Rome, and how frequeqt-r
ly h? meditated UDon it.
Spcnfer was learned in Latin and Greek, as well
as in Italian. But either the fa fh ion of the times,
or fome deficiency in his own tafte, inclined him
to prefer the modern to the anciw-nt models. His
genius
CLASSICAL LEARNINa 49^
genius wai comprchcnfive and fublime, his ftyle
copious, his fenfe of harmony delicate : and no-
thing leems to have been wanting to milke him a
poet of the higheft rank, but a more intimate ac«
quaintance with the claffic authors. We may at;^
leaft venture to fay, that if he had been a little
more converfant in thefe, he would not, in his
Shepherd's Calendar, have debafed the tenderne&
of paftoral with theological difputation; nor
would he have been fo intoxicated with the fplen-
did faults of the Orlando Furiofo, as to conftruft
his Fairy Queen on that Gothic model, rather than
according to the plan which Homer invented, and
which Virgil and Taflb (who were alfo favourites
with our author) had fo happily imitated. It is
faid to be on account of the purity of his ftyle^
and the variety of his invention, and not for any
thing admirable in his plan, that the Italians pre-^
fer Ariofto to Taflb* : and indeed we can hardly
conceive, how a tale fo complex and fo abfurd, fo
heterogeneous in its parts, and fo extravagant as
a whole, (hould be more efteemed than a Ample,
probable, confpicuous, and interefting fable*
* The Academicians dtUa Crufia pabli(hed criticifois oa
TafTo's Gieru/alemmi Liberata ; but thofe related chieBy to the
language, and were founded in too rigorous a partiality for the
Florentine dialed. Bat '* the magnificence of Taflb's num*
** bers and didlion, together with his great conformity to
^* Epic rules, will for ever overbalance Ariofto's fuperior grace-
*< fulnefs and rapidity of exprelTion, and greater fertility of
*' invention. The Jtru/alem will always be the more ftriking,
V and the Orlando the more pleaiing of the two poems.*'
Bantti on Italj^ vol, x. f. 259.
Yet
494 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
Yet Spcrifer gave the preference to the formef ; a
faft fo' extraordinary, confidering his abilities ia
other rclpcdls, that we cannot account for it^*
iRfithout fuppofing it to have been the efFed of a
bias contrafted by long acquaintance. And if fo,
have we not reafon to think, that if he had been
but equally converfanc with better patterns, his
taftc would have acquired a different and better
diredion ?
Dryden's knowledge of foreign and ancient
languages did not prevent his being a perfedb
matter of his own. No author ever had a more
cxquifite fenfe of the energy and beauty of Eng*
liJh words v though it cannot be denied, that his
averfion to words of foreign original, and his de-
fire on all occafions to do honour to his mother-
tongue, betrays him frequently into mean phrafes
and vulgar idioms. His unhappy circumltances,
or the faftiion of his age, alike unfriendly to good
morals and good writing, did not permit him to
avail himfelf of his great learning fo much as
might have been expcfted. The author of Poly*
metis proves him guilty of feveral miftakes in
regard to the antient mythology : and I believe
k will be allowed^ by all his impartial readers,
that a little more learning, or fomething of a more
clafiical tafte, would have been of great ule to
him, as it was to his illuftrious imitator.
I know not whether any nation ever produced
a morefingular genius than Cowley. He abounds
in tender thoughts, beautiful lines, and emphatical
expreflions, his wit is inexhauftlble, and his
8 learning
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 4^
learning extenfive ; but his taftc is generally bar-
barous, and feems to have been formed upon fucli
,models as Donne^ Martial, and the woril parts
of Ovid : nor is it poflible to read his longer
poems with pleafure, while we retain any rtlifh
for the fimplicity of antitnt compofition. If this
author's ideas had been fewer, his conceits would
have been lefs frequent ; fo that in one refpe&
learning may be faid to have hurt his genius. Yet
it does not appear, that his Greek and Latin did
liim any harm ; for his imitations of Anacreon
are almoft the only parts of him that are now re-
membered or read. His Davideis, and his ver-
lions of Pindar, are deftitute of harmony, fimpli-
city, and every other Claffical grace. Had his
tafte led him to a frequent perufal of the mod:
elegant authors of antiquity, his poems would
certainly have been the better for it.
It was never faid, that Swift, Pope, or Addi-
fon % impaired their genius by too clofe an appli-
cation
• ** Mr* Addifon employed his firft years in theftudyof the
'* old Greek and Roman writers ; whofe language and manner
** he caught at that time of life, as flrongly as other young
'* people gain a French accent, or a genteel air. An early ac*
** quaintance with the Claflics is what may be called the good«
•* breeding of poetry, as it gives a certain gracefulnefs which
** never forfalces a mind that contraded it in youth, but is
** ieldom or never hit by thofe who would learn it too late,
*' He firil diflinguifhed himfelf by his Latin compofiuons',
** publiihed in the Mu/ie Jngiuana; and was admired as one
^* of the bed authors fince the Auguilan age, in the two Uni-
[^ veriities, and the greated part of Europe^ before he was
!* talked
4$6 ON THE USEFULNESS OF '
cation to Latin and Greek. On rife coiftrarjr, we .
have reafon to afcribe to their knowledge of tliefe
tongues, that clalfical purity of ftyte by which
their writings are diftinguifhed. All our moft
eminent philolbpkers and divines. Bacon, New*
ton, Cudworrh, Hooker, Taylor, Attcrbury,
Stillingfleet, were profoundly (killed in ancient
literature. And every rational admirer bf Mr.
Locke will acknowledge, that if his learnii^ had
been equal to his good fenfe and manly fpirit, his
works would have been ftill more creditable to
himfelf, and more ufeful to mankind.
In works of wit and humour, oii^ would bb
apt to think, that there is no great occafion' for
the knowledge of antiquity ; it being the author's
chief aim and budnefs, to accommodate himfeff
to the manners of the prefcnt time. And if ftudy
be detrimental to any faculty of the mind, we
might fufpedl, that a playful imagination, the
parent of wit and huniour, would be mod likely
to fufFer by it. Yet the hiftory of our firft-ratc
** talked of as a poet in town. There is not perhaps any
** harder taik than to tame the natural wildners of wit, and to
** civilizethe fancy. The generality of 0|ir old English poets
** abound in forced conceits and affeded phrafes; and even
** tho^e who are faid to come the neareft to exadinefs are but
** too often fond of unnatural beauties, and aim at fomething;
'•* bcttef than perfeftion. If Mr. Addifon's example and
•* precepts be the occafion, that there now begins to be a great
** demand for corteflnefs, we may juflly attribute it to his being
*' 6r(l fa(hioncd by the ancient models, and familiarized to
•* propriety of thought, and chaflity of ftyle/*
Tiikei's Jccount if ihi life and writings tf Addifin.
y geniufes
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 497
gcniufcs in this Way (Shikefpcarealways excepted)
is a proof of the coritrar^. There is more learri-
ing, a!5 well as more wit, in Hudibras, than iri
any book of the fanie fize now extant. In the
Tale of a Tub; theTatlcr, and the Speftator, the
Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus, and in many
parts of Fielding, we difcover at once a brilliant
ti^it attd copious erudition.
i have confined thefe brief remarks to Englifli
. writers. But the fame thing might be proved by
examples from every literary nation of modern j
and even of ancient Europe. For we muft not
iuppofe, that the Greek and Latin authors, be*
taufe they did riot ftudy many languages^ were
illiterate. Hother and Virgil were {killed in all
the learning of their tinie. The men of letters in
thofe days wcfe capable of more intenfe applica-
tion, arid had a greater thirft of knowledge, than
the generality of tKe moderns i and would often,
in defiance of poverty, fatigue, and danger, travel
into diftant lands, and vifit famous places and
perforis, to qualify tHemfelves fot inftrufting
fnankind. And, however learned we may be in
rifiodcrh writings, our curiofity can hardly fail to
te raifcd in regard to the ancient, when we confi-
der, that the greater part of thefe were the work,
and contain the thoughts of men, who had them-
lelvds been engaged in the mod eventful fcenes of
ddive life ; while moft modern books contain only
the notions of fpeculative writers, who know but
the theory of bUfincfs, and that but imperfcdly, and
K k whofc
498 ON THE USEFULNESS pF
whofe determinations upon the principles of great
affairs, and the feelings and fentiments peculiar to
aftive life, are little better than conjcfturc. At
any rate, may we not affirjn, that " without the
*^ aid of ancient learning, genius cannot hope to
^ rife to thofc honours to which it is entitled, nor
** to reach that perfeftion.to which it naturally
*« afpires ?** The exceptions are fo few, and fo
fingular, that it is unneceiTary to infill upon
them.
Were we to confider this matter abftraftly, we
(hould be led to the fame conclufion. For what
IS cheeiFedk of learning upon a found mind ? Is it
not to enlarge our dock of ideas; to afcertainand
corrcft our experimental knowledge ; to give us
habits of attention, recoUedion, and obfervation ;
and help us to mcthodife our thoughts, whether
acquired or natural, as well as to cxprcfs them
with pcrfpicuity and elegance? This may give a
diredlion to our inventive powers, but furely cannot
weaken them* The very worft effeft that ClafTical
learning can produce on the intelligent mind, is,
that it may fometimes transform an original genius,
into an imitator. Yet this happens not often j
and when it does happen, we ought not perhaps
to conlpiain. Ingenious imitations may be as
delightful, and as ufeful, as original compofitions*
One would not change Virgil's Georgic for twenty
fuch poems as Hefiod's ff^orks and Days^ nor
Pope's Eloifa for all the Epiftles of Ovid. The
fixth book of the Eneid, though an imitation of
the
1
CLASSICAL LEARNING* 499
the eleventh of the Odyfley, is incomparably
more fublime ^ and the night-adventure of Dio*
mede and UlyiTes, excellent as it is, muit be al-
lowed to be inferior to the epifode of Nifus and
Euryalus. Several cantoes might be mentioned
of the Fairy S^ueeriy the prefervation of which
would not compcnfate the lofs of The Caftle of In»
dolence: and notwithftanding the merit of Cer-
vantes, I believe there are few Critics in Great
Britain, who do not think in their hearts, that
Fielding has outdone his matter. While the li*
terary world can boaft of Jhc\i imitators as
Virgil and Taffo, Boileau and Pope, it has no
great reafon to lament the fcarcity of original
writers.
IV. The fourth and laft objedion to the ftudy
of Latin and Greek, " That the Claffic authors
" contain defcriptions and dodrines, that tend to
** feduce the underftanding, and corrupt the
" heart/'— ^is unhappily founded in truth. And
indeed, in mott languages there are too many
books liable to this cenfure. And, though a
melancholy truth, it is however true, that a young
man, in his clofet, and at a diftance from bad
example, if he has the misfortune to fall into a
certain track of ftudy which at prcfent is not un-
falhionable, may debafe his underftanding, cor-
rupt his heart, and learn the rudiments of almoft
every depravation incident to human nature. But
to cfFcd this, the knowledge of modern toagues
K k 2 is
50O ON THE USEFULNESS OF
is alone fufficient. Immoral and impious wrf-
ting is one of thofe arts in which the moderns
are confeiTedty fuperior to the Greeks and
Romans.
It does not appear, from what remains of their
works, that any of the old philofophers ever went
fo far as fome of the modern, in recommending
irrcligion and immorality. The Pagan theology
is too abfurd to leflcn our reverence for the Gof-
pel; but fome of our philofophers, as we are
pleafed to call them, have been labouring hard,
and I fear not without fuccefs, to make mankind
renounce all regard for religious truth, both na-
tural and revealed. Jupiter and his kindred gods
may pafs for machines in an ancient Epic poem ;
but in a modern one they would be ridiculous,
even in that capacity: a proof, that in fpite of the
^ enchanting drains wherein their atchievements are
celebrated, they have loft all credit and confidera-
tion in the world, and that the idolatrous fables
of Greek and Latin poetry can never more do any
harm. From the fccpticifm of Pyrrho, and the
Atheifm of Epicurus, what danger is now to be
apprehended ! The language of Empiricus, and
the poetry of Lucretius, may claim attention ;
but the rcafonings of both the one and the other
are too childifti to fubvert any found principle, or
corrupt any gOod heart. The parts of ancient
fcience that are, and always have been, ftudied
moft, are the Peripatetic and Stoical fyftcms ; and
thefc may undoubtedly be read, not only without
danger.
CLASSICAL LEARNING. - 501
danger, but even with great benefit both to the
heart and to the underftanding.
The fineft treatifes of Pagan njorality arc indeed
ioiperfedt ; but their authors are entitled to ho-
nour, for a good intention, and for having done
their beft. Error in that fcience, as well as in
theology, though in us the effed of prejudice and
pride, was generally in them the efFeft of igno-
rance ; and thofe of them, whofe names are moft
renowned, and whofe doftrines are beft underftood,
as Socrates, Ariftotle, Cicero, Seneca, Epiftetus,
and Antoninus, have probably done, and ftill may
do, fervice to mankind, by the importance of
their precepts, by their amiable pidures of par-
ticular virtues, and by the pathetic admonitions
and appofite examples and reafonings wherewith
their morality is enforced. Love to their country,
the parienta), filial, and conjugal charities ; refig^-
uation to the Divine will j fuperiority to the evils
of life, and to the gifts of fortune ; the laws of
juftice, the rights of human nature; the dignity
of temperance, the bafenefs of fenfuality, the
proper direftion of fortitude, and a generous,
candid, and friendly behaviour, are enjoined in
their writings with a warmth of cxpreffion, and
force of argument, which a Chriftian moralift
might be proud to imitatc-r-In a word, I think it
may be affirmed with confidence, that the know-
ledge of ancient philofophy and hiftory muft con-
tribute to the improvement of the human mind,
^ut cannot now corrupt the heart or undcrftand-
K k 3 ing
502 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
ing of any perfon who is a friend to truth and
virtue.
But what have you to fay in vindication of the
indecency of the ancient poets, of AriAopbanes,
Catullus, Ovid, Martial, Petronius, and even of
Pcrfius, Juvenal, and Horace ? Truly, not a
word. I abandon every thing of that fort,
whether modern or ancient, to the utmoft venge-
ance of Satire and Criticifm •, and Ihould rejoice
to hear, that from the monuments of human wic
all iodecency were expunged for ever. Nor is
there any circumftance that could attend fuch a
purification, that would make me regret it. The
immoral pafTages in moil: of the authors now
mentioned are but few, and have neither dogance
nor harmony to recommend them to any but pro-
fligates :— lb ftridl is the connexion between vir-
tue and good ta.(le ; and fo true it is, that want of
decency will always in one degree or other betray
want of fcnfe. Horace, Perfiusi, Martial, Ca^
tuUus, and Ovid himfelf, might give up all their
immoralities, without lofing any of their wit : and
as to Ariftophanes and Petronius, I have never
been able to difcover any thing in either, that
might not be configned to eternal oblivion^ with-
out the lead detriment to literature. The latter,
notwithftaoding the name which he has, I know
not how, acquired, is in every refpeft (with the
refer vc of a few tolerable verfes and fome critical
obfer vat ions fcattered through his book) a vile
writer j his ftyle harfh ^d affcfted i and his ar-
3 gumcnc
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 503
gument fuch jIs can citcite ho emotion, in any
mind not utterly depraved, btrt contempt and
abhorrence. The wit and humour of the Athe-
nian poet are now become almofl: invifible, and'
fcem never to have been very confpicuous. The
reception he met with in his own time was pro-
bably owing to the licentioufnefs of his manners,
and the virulence of his defamation (qualities*
which have given ^a temporary name to more bad'
poets than one) ; and for his reputation in latter
times, as a claflic author, he muft have been in--
dcbted, not to the poignancy of his wit, or thd
delicacy of his humour, nor to his powers of in-
vention and arrangement, nor to any natural dif-
play of human manners to be found in him (for
of all this merit he feems to be de(litute)> buf
folely to the antiquity of his langu&ge. Ih -prpof-
of one part of this remark, it may be obfcrved,
that Plato in his Sympqfium defcribes him as a
glutton, drunkard, and profligate : and to evince
the probability of another part of it, 1 need only
mention the cxceffive labour and zeal wherewith
commentators have illuftrated certain Greek and
Latin performances, which if they h^ been
written in our days would never have been read,
and which cannot boaft of any excellence, either
in the fcntiment of compofition.
But do you really think, that fuch mutilations
of the old poets, as you feem to propofe, can
ever take place ? Do you think, that the united
authority of all the potentates on earth could
annihilate, or confign to oblivion, thofe excep-
K k 4 tionable
5P4 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
tionat^le parages ? I do not : but I think that
tbofe paflages fliould pever be explained^ nor put
in the h^nds of children. And fure, it is not
necelfary that they (hould. In fonie late ediponsf
Qf Horace, the impurities are omitted, and noE
ib much left as a line of afterifks, to raife a boy's
curiofity. By the attention of parents and teach-
crs» might not all the poets ufually read in fchools
be printed in the fame manner ? Might not chil-
dren be informed, that, in order to become learn-
ed, it is neceflary to read, not every Greek and
Latin book, but thofe books only that may mend
the heart, improve the tafte, and enlarge the un-
derftanding ? Might they not be made fenfible of
the importance of Bacon's aphorifm, *^ That fomc
** books are to be tafted, others to be fwallowed,
♦* and fome few to be chevyed and digefted ?" that
is, as the Noble author explains it, '^ That fome
f * are to be read only in parts ; others to be read,
*^ but not curioufly; arid fome few to be read
" wholly with diligence and attention ?" — a rule,
which, if duly attended to, would greatly promote
the advancement of true learning, and the plea-
fure and profit of the ftudent. Might not ^
young man be taught to fet a proper value on
good compofitions, and to entertain fuch con-
tempt for the bad, as would fecure him againft
tjieir influence? All this I cannot bvit think
prafticable, if thpfe who fupcrintend education
would fludy to advance the moral a$ well as intel-
|eftual improvement of the fcholar ; and if
teachers, tranUators, and commentators, woul<4
confidcr.
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 505
jtonfider, that td explain dulnefs is fooliih, and to
illuftrate obfcenity. criminal. And if this were
pradifed, we (hould have no reafon to complain^
of cladical erudition, that ic has any tendency to
induce the underftanding, or inflame the pa(Iions%
In fa6t, its inflammatory and fedudive qualities
^ould never have been alarming, if commentatprs
had thought mone, and written Icfs. But th^f
were unhappily too wife to value any thing beyond
the knowledge of old word$. To have told themt
that it is cflTential to all good vrriting to improve
as well a§ inform, and to regulate the afFeftions
as well as amufe the fancy and enrich the memory^
that wicked books can pjeafe none but worthlefs
men, who have no right to be plcafed, and that
jfheir authors inftead of praife d^ferve punjfli-
ment;— would have been to addrefs them in a
ftyle, which with all their knowledge of the gram-
xpar and didionary they could not h^vc und^x-
^ood*,
Still
^ It muft mqve the indignation of «very peifon who Is not
an arrant book-worm, or abandoned debauchee, to obferve how
induflrioufly Johannes Doufa, and others of that phkgmatic
^rotherhood, have expounded the indecencies of Greece and
Rome, and dragged into light thp(e abominations that ought
to have remained in utter darknefs foi; ever. — Moaf. Nodot, a
critic of the hO. centuiy, on occaiion of having recovered, as
be pretends, a part of an ancient manufcript, writes to Monf.
Charpentier, Dirc^eur de Tacademie pranjoife, in the follow-
ing terms. •* J'ai fait, Monfieur, une decouverte ires-avan-
tagcufe a I'empire des leltres : et pour ne pas tenir votre wprit
en fufpens, plein de la joyc que je reffens moi-meme, je voos
dirai avcc precipitation^ que j'ai cntre mes aains ce qui man-
quoit
5o6 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
$till I fhali be told, that this fcfaeme, thougb
prafticabie, is too difficult to permit the hopeof
its being ever put in execution. Perhaps it may.
be fo. And what then? Becaufe paflages that*
convejr improper ideas may be found ^in (bme
jincient writings, (hall we deprive young people
of all the inftrudion and plcafure that attends a
regular courfe of claflTical ftudy f Becaufe Horace
wrote fome paultry lines, and Ovid fome worth-
lefs poems, muft Virgil, and bivy, and Cicero,
and Plutarch, and Homer, be cbnfigned to obli-
vion ; I do not here fpcak of the beauties of the
Greek and Latin authors, nor of the vaft difpro-
portion there is between what is good in them,
and what is bad. In every thing human tha*e is
a mixture of evil : but are we for that reafon to
throw off all concern about human things ? Muft
we fet our harvefts on fire, to leave them toperiflb,
becaufe a few tares have fprung up with the corn?
quCHt dc — — — ' . Vous pouvez croire, Monfieur, fi aimaot
cct auteur aa point que je his > &c. Vous appcrccvrez,
Mooiieor, dans cec oavrage des beantes qui voas charmeronty
&*ۥ Je vous prie d' annoncer cette decouverte a vos itiullres Aca~
demiciens; elle merite bien, quMs la f^achent des premiers,
Je fuis ravi que la fortune fe foit fcrvic de moi, pour reridre a
la pofteritc un ouvragc fi precieux/' &c. If {he left D«.cades
of Livy had been recovered, this zealous Frenchman coul^
barldy have expreHed himfelf with more cnthufiarm. What
then will the reader think when he is told, that this wonderful
acceflion to literature, was no other than Petronius Arbiter ;
an author, whom it is impoffible to read without intenfe difguft,
and whom, if he be ancient (which is not certain), I fcruple
not to call a difgrace to antiquity ?
Becaufe
CLASSICAL LEARNWa ^07
Bccaufc oppreflSon will fometitnes take place
wherc-evcr there is fubordination, and luxury
wherc-ever there is fccuricy, arc we therefore ta
renounce all government ? or fliall we, according
to the advice of certain famous projeftors, ruo
naked to the woods, and there encoantcr every
hardfhip and brutality of favage life, in order to
efcape from the tooth-ach and rhcumati&n ? If .
we rejedl every ufeful inftitution that may poffibly
be attended with inconvenience, we muft rejed: all
bodily exercife, and all bodily reft, all ar^s aod
fciences, all law, commerce, and foeiety^
If the prcfent objedlion prove any thing decifivd
againft ancient literature, it will prove a great
deal more againft the modern. Of clafllcal in-
decency compared with that of lat-ter times, I do
not think fo favourably as did a certain critic, who
likened the former to the nakednefs of a child*
and the latter to that .of a proftitute ; I think
there is too much of the laft charadter in both :
but that the modern mufes partake of it more
than the ancient, is undeniable. I do not care to
prove what I fay, by a detail of particulars ; and
am forry to add, that the point is too plain to
require proof. And if fo, may not an early ac»
. quaintance with the beft ancient authors, as
teachers of wifdom, and models of good tafte,.
be ufeful as a prefcrVative from the fophiftries and
immoralities that difgrace foff^e of our fafhionablc
moderns? If a true tafte for Claffic learning (hall
ever become general, the demand for licentious
plays^
SPt ON THE USEFULNESS OP
plays, poems, and novels, will abate in proper^*
tion i for ic is to the more illiterate readers that
this fort of tra(h is mod acceptable. Study, Co
ignominious and fo debafing, fo unworthy of a
fchoiar and of a man, fo repugnant to good tade
and good manners, will hardly engage the atten-
tion of thofe who can relilh the original magnifi-
cence of Homer an4 Virgil, Demofthenes and
picero.
A book is of fome value, if it yield harr^ilef^
jimufement i it is dill more valuably, if it com-
municate inftrudion j but if it anfwer both pur^
pofe^, it is truly a matter of importance to man-
kind. That many of the claffic authors pofTclIed
the art of blending fweetnefs wlt^ utility, has
been the Qpini,on of all men without exception,
who had fenfe and learning fufficient to qualify
|hem to be judges.— Is hiftory inftruftive and en-
tertaining ? We have from thefc authors a detail
of the mod important events unfolded in the moft
interefting manner. Without the hiftorics they
have left us, we fliould have been both ignorant
of their affairs, and unfkillcd in the art of recordr
ing our own : for I think it is allowed, that the
beft, modern hiftories are thofe which in form are
moft fimilar to the ancient models. — Is philofophy
a fource of improvement and delight ? The Greeks
and Romans have given us, I (hall not fay the
moft ufeful, but I will fay the fundamental, part
of hum'an fcience 5 have led us into a train of
thinking, which of ourfelves we Ihould not- fo
fooa
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 509
fodh have taken to; and have fct before us an
cndlefs multitude of examples and inferences,
which, though not exempt from error, do how-
ever fuggeft the proper methods of obfervation
and profitable inquiry. Let thofcj who under-
value the difcoveries of antiquity, only thinky
what our condition at this day mud have been, iff
in the ages of darknefs that followed the deftrue-
tion of the Roman empire, all the literary monu-
ments of Greece and Italy had periftied. — Again^
is there any thing produdtive of utility and plea-
fure, in the fiftions of poetry, and in, the charms
of harm.onious compofition ? Surely, it cannot
be doubted ; nor will they, who have any know-
ledge of the hiftory of learning, hefitate to affirm,
that the modern Europeans are.almoft wholly in-
debted for the beauty of their writings both in
profe and verfe, to thofe models of elegance that
firfl: appeared in Greece, and have fince been ad-
mired and imitated all over the weftern world. It
is a flriking fact, that while in other parts of the
earth there prevails a form of language, fo diC-
guifed by figures, and fo darkened by incoherence,
as to be quite unfuitable to philofophy, and even
in poetry tirefome, the Europeans (hould have
been fo long in poffeflion of a ftyle, in which har-
mony, pcrfpicuity, fimplicity, and elegance, are
fo happily united. That the Romans and modern
Europeans had it from the Greeks, is well known ;
but whence thofe fathers of literature derived it,
is not fo apparent, and would furnifh matter for
too long a digreflion, if we were here to inquire.-^
In
510 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
In a word, the Greeks and Romans are our mafters
in all polite literature ; a confideration, which of
itfelf ought to infpire reverence f6r their writings
and genius.
Good tranflations arc very ufeful; but the bcft
of them will not render the ftudy of the original
authors cither unneceflary or unprofitable. This
might be proved by many arguments.
All living languages are liable to change. The
Greek and Latin, though compofed of more
durable materials than ours, were fubjeft to per-
petual viciffitude, till they ceafed to be fpoken.
The former is with reafon believed to have been
more ftationary than any other; and indeed a very
particular attention was paid to the prefervation of
it : yet between Spenfcr and Pope, Hooker and
Sherlock, Raleigh and Smollct, a difference of
dialed is not more perceptible, than between
Homer and Apollonius, Xenophon and Plutarch,
Ariftotle and Antoninus. In the Roman authors
the change of language is ftill more remarkable.
How different, in. this refpeft, is Ennius from
Virgil, Lucilius from Horace, Cato from Colu-
mella, and even Catullus from Ovid ! The laws
of the Twelve Tables, though ftudicd by every
Roman of condition, were' not perfeftly undcr-
ftood even by antiquarians, in the time of Cicero,
when they were not quite four hundred years old.
Cicero himfclf, as well as Lucretius, made fcveral
improvements in the Latin tongue 5 Virgil intro-
duced fome new words ; and Horace afferts his
right to the fame privilege % and from his remarks
upon
CLASSICAL LEAKNING. '511
upon it % appears to have confidered the immuta-
bility of living language as an impoflible thing.
It were vain then to flatter ourfclvcs with the hope
of permatiency to any of the modern tongues of
Europe 5 which, being more ungrammatical than
the Latin and Greek, are expofed to more danger-
ous, becaufe le(s difcernible, innovations. Our
want of tenfes and cafes makes a multitude of
auxiliary words neceflary 5 and to thefe the un«
learned arc not attentive^ becaufe they look upon
them as the leaft important parts of language i
and hence they come to be omitted or mifapplied
in converfation, and afterwards in writing. Be-
fides, the fpirit of commerce, manufafkur/?, and
naval entcrprife, fo honourable to modern Europe,
and to Great Britain in particular, and the fi^e
circulation of arts, fciences, and opinions, owing
in part to the ufe of printing, and to our im-
provements in navigation, muft render the modern
tongues, and efpecially the Englifli, more vari-
able than the Greek or Latin. Much indeed has
been done of late to afcertain and fix the Englilh
tongue. Johnfon*3 Diftionary is a mod impor-
tant, and, confidcred as tlic work of one man, a
moft wonderful performance. It docs honour to
England, and to human genius ; and proves, that
there is ftill left among us a force of mind equal
to that which formerly diftinguifhed a Stephanus
or a Varro. Its influence in diffufing the know-
♦ Hor. Ar. Poet. vcrf. 46.-72.
ledge
51 1 ON THE VSEVuLUt^S OF
fcfdge of the language, and retarding fts dcclfnci
k ail ready obfervable :
Si Pergama deactra
Defend! poiTent, etiam hac defenfa fuiflent;
Arid yet, within the laft twenty years, and fince
this great work was publilhed, a multitude of'
hew words have foupd their way into the EnglilK
tongue, and, though bbth unauthorifed and un-
necedfary, feem likely to remain in it.
in this ftuauatirig ftate of modern languages^'
and of our own in particular, what could we ex-
pcdl from tranflationsj if the (lady Of Greek and
Latin were to be dtfcontinued ? Suppofe all the
good books of antiquity tranflated into Englifh^
and the originals deftroyed, or^ which is nearly
the fame things neglefted^ that Englifli growff
obfolete in one century ; and, in two, that tranf-
lation muft be retranflated. If there were faultsf
in the firft, and I never heard of a faultlefs tranf-
lation, they muft be multiplied tenfold in the
fecond, bo that, within a few centuries, there is
reafon to fear, that all the old authors would be
either loft, or fo mangled as to be hardly worth
prcferving. — A fyftem of Geometry, one would
think, muft lofe lefs in a tolerable tranftationj
than any other fcience. PoUrical ideas are fome*
what variable ; moral notions are ambiguous irt
ihsir names at leaft, if not in themfelves ; the.ab-?
ftrufer fcicnces fpeak a language ftill more inde-
ifinitc : but ideas of number and quantity muft
4 fct
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 51 j
or ever remain diftinft. And yet fome late au«
thors have thrown light upon Geometry, by re*
viving the ftudy of the Greek geometricians. Let
any man read a tranflation of Cicero and Livy,
and then ftudy the author in his own tongue; and
he (hall find himfelf not only nK)re delighted with
the manner^ but alfo more fully inftru(5ted in the
matter.
Beauty of ftyle, and harmony of verfe, would
decay at the (irft tranflation, and at the fecond or
third be quite loft. It is not poflible for one who
is ignorant of Latin to have any adequate notion
of Virgil 5 the choice of his words, and the mo-
dulation of his numbers, have never been copied
with tolerable fucccfs in any other tongue. Ho-
rner has been of all poets the moft fortunate in a
Urtmflator; his fable, defcriptions, and pathos,
and, for the moft part, his chara&ers, we find in
Pope : but we find not his fimplicity, nor his im-
petuoficy, nor that majeftic inattention to the
more trivial niceties of ftyle, which is fo graceful
in him, but which no other poet dares imitate.
Homer in Greek feems to fing extempore, and
from immediate infpiration ♦ 5 but in Englifli his
• " His poems (fays a very learned writer) were made to
•* be recited, or fung to a company; and not read in private,
" or perufed in a book, which few were then capable of
** doing : and I will venture to afHrio, that whoever reads not
*• Homer in this view, lofes a great part of the delight he
** might receive from the poet."
BlackwelPs Inquiry into the Life and IFr iting
rf Honor, p. 122.
L 1 phrafeology
514 ON THE USEFULNESS OF
phrafeology and numbers are not a little elaborate:;
which I mention, not with any view to detraffc
from the tranQator, who truly defcrves our higheft
praife^ but to fhow the infufficiency of modern
language to convey a juft idea of ancient writing.
—1 need not enlarge on this fubjedt : it is well
known, that few of the great authors of antiquity
have ever been adequately tranflated. No maa
who underftands Plato> Demofthenes, or Xeno-
phon, in the Greek, or Livy, Cicero, and Virgil,
in the Latin, would willingly perufe even the beft
tranflations of thofe authors.
If one mode of compofition be better than ano-
ther, which will fcarce be denied, it is furely
worth while to preferve a ftandard of that which
is beft. This cannot be done, but by preferving
the original authors ; and they cannot be faid to
be preferved, unlefs they be ftudied and under-
ftood. Tranflations are like portraits. They
may give fome idea of the lineaments and colour,
but the life and the motion they cannot copy, and
too often, inftead of exhibiting the air of the
original, they prefent us with that only which is
moft agreeable to the tafte of the painter. Abolifh
the originals, and you will foon fee the copies de-r
generate.
There arc in England two excellent ftyles of
poetical compofition. Milton is our model in the
one-, Dryden and Pope in the othen Milton
formed himfelf on the ancients, and on the mo*
dern Italians who imitate their anceftors of old
4 Ronie.
CLASSICAL LEARNING. 515
Rome. Dryden and Pope took the French poets
for their pattern, particularly Boileau, who follow-
ed the ancients (of whom he was a paffionate ad-
mirer) as far as the profaic genius of the French
tongue would permit. If we rejeft the old au-
thors, and take thefe great moderns for our Hand-
ard, we do nothmg more than copy after a copy.
If we rejeft both, and fet about framing new
modes of compodtion, our fuccefs will probably
be no better, than that of the projedors whom
Gulliver vidted in the metropolis of Balni-
barbi.
THE END.
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